


Kintsukuroi

by aleksrothis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate 2018-19 season, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 00:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16419311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: Just because something's broken doesn't mean it can't be mended.Alex is used to hearing about his failings from his father, his girlfriend, his team and it's easy to believe that's all he deserves.But when he gets a fresh start in Arizona, the Coyotes help him learn to believe in himself and, as he heals, he finds he has more friends than he thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hockey Big Bang 2018 and accompanied by a mix by cjmasim  
>  You should definitely go and give it a listen!
> 
> This is the story where I project a bunch of my personal experiences of abuse and resulting issues onto Alex Galchenyuk based on the rumors about his overbearing father and that time his (at the time) girlfriend was arrested for domestic violence. I have intentionally given the girlfriend a different name (which is why this is tagged as an OFC) and make no claims that any of the events depicted in this story really happened to the people involved. 
> 
> Given the subject matter I may have been overly cautious with warnings, but please still let me know if there is anything missed you would want tagged.
> 
> See end notes for further disclaimers.

_Kintsukuroi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise._

the world  
gives you  
so much pain  
and here you are  
making gold out of it  
  
\- _there is nothing purer than that_  
  
rupi kaur

***

Alex finds out about the trade as he changes planes on the way to Italy. A missed call from his agent, half a dozen texts and a notification from the NHL app. He'd known there was a chance he was getting traded but Arizona? Fuck. 

There is a sinking feeling in his stomach as he works through his texts, hands shaking. Two voicemail notifications as well as messages from P.K., Gally, Anna... There is nothing from Rachel but she doesn’t care that much for hockey news, perhaps she hasn’t heard yet, he can hope at least.

He calls his agent back but Pat doesn’t have anything further to add, now Alex has already seen the news. “Focus on your hockey camp for now, just let me know when you’re heading back to the US,” Pat tells him.

Finally, Alex can't keep avoiding the message from his father. It is short, simply, " _We will talk about this when you arrive_ ," but Alex can hear his disappointed tone. He doesn’t particularly want to have that conversation, but a couple of drinks on the plane take the edge off his anxiety.

Given the time difference, and his expected jetlag, Alex and Rachel have agreed to wait until the next day to talk, though he texts her to confirm his flight landed safely. He’d thought about mentioning the trade but he knows his girlfriend doesn’t like having conversations by text, always preferring to speak face to face, and it is definitely better to keep her happy.

His father meets him off the plane, just as Alex is collecting his bags, and Alex barely has a chance to greet him before Papa launches into a lecture he had clearly prepared. In Russian, at least, so there was less chance of anyone around understanding him. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t play better,” he starts. 

Alex has plenty of experience keeping his expression blank, however much the words hurt, so simply picks up his bags and waits.

“You don’t want to get too settled, certainly not in Phoenix, the Coyotes are bound to get relocated sooner or later.” His father turns, leading the way out to the car. “Of course,” he continues, “if they have another season like the last at least you won’t need to worry about being traded again; no decent team will want you.”

Alex swallows hard and keeps walking. He’s heard a variant of this on repeat for the last year as the Habs sunk down the rankings and it’s no more than he deserves, going from one bad team to another. That the Habs had traded him for a winger with even fewer points than he’d gotten said a lot about how little he was worth.

He tunes back into his father’s lecture as he says, “The Coyotes are barely an NHL team but I suppose at least you’ll fit in there.” 

Alex should probably care about the disparaging comments towards his new team, but they are nothing he hasn’t heard before. Even as bad as the Habs had been last year, it had been reassuring to know there was someone doing worse and they had joked about how the Coyotes were a team where careers went to die. Now they’re his team and it doesn’t seem so funny anymore. Alex feels sick; he wants a drink but that will have to wait.

His father has plenty to more say about the trade on the drive to their apartment, and Alex isn’t expected to contribute, just to listen. “You need to speak to the Coyotes, or get Pat to, and make it clear you want to play center,” Papa insists, which is an ongoing point of contention.

“I will,” Alex promises.

“Last year you looked bad, you can’t do that again,” Papa says. “You need to be need to be better defensively, you understand?”

Alex knows that’s fair; he might have had over fifty points last year but that didn't negate how bad his minus thirty-one had been, even with how badly the Canadiens had done overall. It wasn't the worst in the league, but not by much. Alex wanted to do better but he got so much conflicting advice that he just found himself overthinking it on the ice.

“You’re going to have to work hard this summer if you don’t want to be put back on the fourth line in Arizona,” Papa continues. “You need to show them you are worth what they paid for you.”

It stings when his father criticizes him, but it’s not like he’s wrong. Alex knows some of the Habs judged their relationship, but he never saw it as that big a deal. He was hardly the only player who spoke to his family every day and besides, his father had been his coach up to juniors, he knew the game.

Growing up, Papa had always been the most knowledgeable person about hockey he knew. It was ingrained in Alex to listen. 

Nevertheless, Alex just sometimes wishes Papa would praise him when things were going well, when he had a good game and put up points, rather than always asking, “Why didn’t you score?” or “Why didn’t you get more shifts?” as though he could control Therrien, or even less Julien’s plans for him. Then again, he could always do better and he knows empty praise isn’t going to help him improve.

Anna is waiting for them back at the apartment they have hired for the hockey camp and greets him with a warm hug, reminding him what makes the trip worth it. “You look tired,” she tells him critically.

“It was a long journey,” he says, tilting his head towards their father, confident she will get his meaning.

Anna nods and turns to Papa. “Dinner is nearly ready. Help me choose the wine?” she asks, appealing to his expertise, which would surely divert his attention from how much Alex has disappointed him yet again.

When Papa does indeed take the bait, Alex mouths, “Thank you,” at Anna over his shoulder and escapes to take a shower. He takes his time and, when he emerges, dinner is about to be served so he is able to avoid talking a little longer by helping to lay the table and set out serving dishes. 

She has made kalduny, which are one of Alex’s favorite comfort foods, and she must have been planning it even before the news of his trade came through. Alex feels warm knowing she had been thinking of him and realizes he's actually pretty hungry.

It is clear their father is ready to continue his lecture from their car journey but Anna distracts him again with talk about their plans for the next couple of weeks while Alex pours them all a glass of wine. She has always been careful not to get involved in Papa’s coaching talks, but Alex can usually count on her to turn his attention away when it gets too much.

Anna has plans to go shopping and catch up with friends while Alex and Papa are busy with the hockey school. Then, once that is finished, they are all planning on heading to Minsk for a month, where Mama already is staying with Baba and Deda, though Alex doesn’t expect to get more than a couple of weeks before Rachel wants him back in, well, not Montreal now, but probably Miami. 

He’s going to have to go to Arizona too at some point sooner or later, though he’s not looking forward to it. He may only have visited there once a year but Alex remembers the last visit as being far too warm even in February.

Alex helps Anna with clearing the table to avoid Papa a little longer and she mostly lets him get on with loading the dishwasher and rinsing off the pans which don’t go in, whilst she checks her phone. At least she is able to find some positive news articles to show him with the Coyotes saying good things about acquiring him including how they are willing to give him a chance to play center. Alex is beyond fed up with that discussion, though he’d been told off in Montreal for saying so to the press, but their father insists. Besides, he played center through Juniors and did well, he doesn’t understand why it should be such an issue now.

Anna has always been more supportive than their father so Alex is hoping for reassurance when he asks, “What do _you_ think about the trade?”

“I’m going to have to decide where to live next year,” she says, thoughtfully. “I mean, I could stay in Montreal without you, but I could take the opportunity to move to Miami permanently.”

Alex had been hoping she might move to Arizona with him but she doesn’t seem to have considered that option and he doesn’t want to be the one to suggest it now, for fear of sounding too needy. Perhaps it’s best that she doesn’t until he knows if he is going to settle in there.

The distraction seems to have worked as instead of returning to their earlier discussion, Papa has put the TV on, which is showing football; one of the matches of the World Cup, which has just started.

Alex has an early night, so has managed a few hours’ sleep when he is woken at two in the morning by his Skype ringtone. Despite being half asleep and not entirely sure where he is or what time it is, he answers with “привет?”

“English please,” Rachel says, then jumps straight to her point without asking how he is or if it's a good time to talk. “I don’t know why you had to go and get traded to _Arizona_. What am I supposed to do, there’s nothing there-”

It takes Alex a moment to understand what she’s talking about, brain already half-tuned towards Russian and Italian.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you weren’t good enough that Montreal wanted to keep you,” she continues, his response clearly not required. Alex shivers; he’s heard that from his father already, but Rachel always knows where to find his soft spots.

“When are you coming back here?” she asks before he can think of anything else to say.

“The camp will run until June 30,” he says, though he’s sure he’s told her this before. “Then we’re flying to Minsk for… another month?” 

“You’re going to be gone for six weeks?” she says. As every year, she always complains about how long he will be away visiting his family.

“You could come and visit too?” Alex suggests, as he has several times before.

She shakes her head. “You know I can’t. I’m far too busy here.”

“I would pay for the flight,” he says, unable to help himself. “First class-”

“Alex,” she says sharply and he cuts himself off. 

Alex knows her job is stressful too and feels guilty that he is causing her extra hassle.

Though they have only been apart less than a day, Rachel wants to know everything he’s done - what he’s eaten, if he talked to anyone on the plane or at the airport, which of his family members are staying with them in Asiago. By the time they are finished it's nearly four and he's too on edge to go back to sleep.

He goes for a run and when he gets back, he finds his father in the kitchen making coffee. Papa frowns. “You should be asleep,” he says.

“Rachel called me early,” Alex explains.

His father’s expression lightens, he likes Rachel, most of the time, thinks she’s a good influence on him. “You know you need to adjust to the time difference properly. It’s not going to do you any good if you’re tired for the camp.”

It isn’t like Alex doesn’t know that, but it won’t do him any good to argue with Papa. “You’re right,” he says instead. “I’m going to take a shower then maybe have a nap.” At least that gives him an excuse to retreat to his room.

Of course, Papa has to get in the last word. “Don’t oversleep now,” he warns. “You need to get into a proper routine as soon as possible.”

He’d allowed himself a few days before his hockey camp starts to recover from the travel, so Alex isn’t too worried but he knows better than to correct his father.

In his room, Alex turns his laptop on. Even though he knows the majority of the press will be awful, he can't help himself going online and reading it and everything coming out of Montreal is as terrible as he’d expected. 

How could they say he’d had attitude problems? Neither Therrien nor Julien had ever trusted him but he’d always tried his best. Drouin had caused a huge fuss wanting the Bolts to trade him but, because he was French-Canadian, he just got to waltz into Montreal and be accepted. 

His phone buzzes but it’s just an Insta notification. Alex reads through his messages again, working out who he needs to reply to and which he can just delete. He texts P.K. back first, once it’s late enough for him to be awake. “ _How do you stay so positive when they talk shit about you?_ ”

“ _Don’t let them get to you_ ,” P.K. replies almost immediately. Of course Alex could have expected him to sympathize since he’d had the same happen to him, but it’s still a relief to hear it. “ _Fuck Bergevin, dude.”_

Alex has to laugh at that. “ _For sure, but how?_ ”

“ _I know you’re better than what they say_ ,” P.K. sends. “ _Prove them wrong - you can shine in Arizona_.”

It’s reassuring to have someone tell him they believe in him, even if Alex isn’t sure he believes it. At least he’ll be in the same conference as P.K. now and they will get to see each other more than twice a year. Two hours’ time difference rather than one isn’t going to stop them talking. 

Alex works through the rest of his messages. Prusty and Patches have both texted him to commiserate and wish him all the best in Arizona whilst Gally sent him a message full of emojis, which Alex isn’t sure how to interpret.

It is upsetting to watch Gally talking about how he’s looking forward to playing with Domi and leaves Alex wondering if maybe they weren’t as close as he thought. He shouldn’t be surprised none of the Habs have spoken publicly against the trade, that's not how things are done, and none of them had dared to say anything when P.K. was traded, though Pricey had been furious. At the same time it hurts; he feels like they’re happy to replace him.

Nail is the only other person with anything really positive to say when he calls Alex. “You’re away from Julien at least.”

“But to the Coyotes, who just had a historically bad season.”

“So?” Alex can almost see Nail’s shrug. “The Avs had an even worse one the year before and they made the playoffs this year.”

“Well, they had you, of course,” Alex jokes.

Nail laughs, although they have already told him they won’t be making him a qualifying offer. He reassures Alex it won’t be that bad, talks about what it had been like on the Avs after their own terrible season in 2016-17, way worse than the Coyotes last year. Nail had liked it there, even if they didn’t want him back, and it should be easier for Alex, who’s coming off a 50 point season. “They had already started to turn things around towards the end of the year,” Nail concludes. 

Alex finds himself comforting Nail more than anything, since it doesn’t seem like he’s going to get another offer to stay in the NHL, though his father’s words ring in his mind. Alex had always failed to live up to Nail’s success in Sarnia and it didn’t seem to make sense how he’d had the better luck in the NHL.

Fortified, Alex fields messages from the press, telling them he’s looking forward to playing in Arizona and he also gets texts from a couple of the Coyotes As from last season: Ekman-Larsson, Stepan and Goligoski. He replies thanking them but assumes they are just formalities. From what he’s heard of trades it would be weirder if they didn’t contact him so he still doesn’t know if they will actually welcome him, especially if they read his press. 

He doesn’t know anyone on the team, except as opponents, not even from Juniors or International teams. There were several guys who had played on Team USA but none of them had overlapped with him. Chychrun had played Juniors in Sarnia but after Alex and Nail’s time so they have something in common, but the thought of going into a team of strangers is pretty daunting. 

He’s not sure if he should be concerned about the lack of Russians either; they had traded for him so couldn’t be that anti-Russian, unless they assumed he would be too, and that had never been at the root of Julien’s criticism either, whatever the press had said. 

Nevertheless, Alex likes having people he could talk to who won’t mock him or take him less seriously due to his accent. He’d really missed Marky in Montreal last year and it had been hard to keep in touch given the time difference.

He also gets an email via his agent from the Coyotes' front office welcoming him to the team and including contact details if he needs to speak to anyone about summer training or relocation.

Alex works out the time difference to actually call them back and, after a few exchanges of messages, ends up talking to Coach Tocchet in person. He evidently doesn’t hide his relief to be out of Montreal that well, as the coach says he doesn’t have to fake being so excited to come to them. Fortunately he then laughs it off as a joke. Alex dares to ask about playing center, knowing his father will want to know what they say, and Tocchet repeats what they’ve said in the press, that he’s willing to give Alex a shot at it.

He gets a follow-up email a couple of days later, from Tocchet directly, inviting him to a meeting in advance of training camp if he's going to be in town house hunting. The email also offers advice on which areas to look in or that some of his team-mates might have spare rooms available. 

Alex knows better than to think he has a choice about attending; if the coach is asking it’s not really a question, and he does need to find somewhere to live, more than just a hotel. Though he’ll probably also have to buy another place wherever Rachel decides she wants to be, which is looking like California as her current preference. At least it’s not a long flight and they will be playing more away games there than anywhere else. 

He has to assume she’ll want to stay with him when they have home games and just head out of town when he does, since Alex can’t see her being willing to leave him out of her sight longer than necessary.

After the hockey camp, Alex flies to Minsk to see his grandparents and it is there he hears how Nail has signed with SKA. Knowing his likely reaction, Alex doesn’t tell his father but, of course, Papa sees the news online eventually and uses Nail as a cautionary example. “That’s what will happen to you if you don’t improve before your contract ends, Alex. How badly do you want to stay in the NHL?” 

Nail always seems happy enough when Alex speaks to him but surely he couldn’t help but feel disappointed it had come to this. And a ten hour time difference was going to make it hard to keep in touch.

In the end, Alex only spends a couple of weeks in Minsk with his family, the best compromise he could agree between Rachel; who had been complaining about missing him since the end of his hockey camp, and finally insisted that he needed to come back, and his father; demanding he should spend more time with the family over the summer since he was away all season. Of course, his father might have ways of showing his disappointment but Rachel’s displeasure was far worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex has a beer on his flight into Phoenix and wishes for something stronger; he can't help being nervous about his reception there.

He knew Arizona was hot during the season but now, in the middle of summer, it’s unbearable outside of the air-conditioned airport. Alex takes a cab to his hotel and texts his father to confirm he’s arrived. 

When Alex checks in the receptionist clearly recognizes his name and, once in his room, he has to resist the mini-bar since it wouldn’t do to turn up for his first meeting hungover. 

Instead, in need of a distraction, he skypes Rachel, rather than simply texting her.

She picks up immediately but looks irritated; Alex feels his stomach twist but he presses on, “Hey, sweetheart.”

“You made it then,” Rachel sounds unimpressed. “Is this important? You know I'm busy-”

The uneasy feeling intensifies but he swallows it down. “I thought we needed to agree our plans. We are still meeting for house-hunting, yes? You said you were going to sort your own flight?”

“Oh that,” she says dismissively. “For sure, so I'm flying in tomorrow afternoon. And you'll meet me at the airport.”

It's not a question but Alex confirms anyway. “Of course, just text me when you know your arrival time and gate.”

“Is that all?” She looks off-screen and hold up a hand to someone out of his view, as though asking them to wait.

“Yes?” Alex sees her reach towards the screen to end the call. “I love you-” he says, but her image is gone before he finishes his words.

The conversation doesn’t do anything for his nerves; something felt off though he can't quite put his finger on it. Despite knowing it won't help with the jetlag, Alex just goes to bed but he doesn’t sleep well and ends up in the hotel gym at 6am, trying to outrun the noise in his head, since it’s too early to have a drink.

Still, when he gets back to his room, he has a text from Nail wishing him luck and Alex is able to get ready for his meeting with his new GM and coach with less of a heavy heart.

He double checks the address before ordering a taxi but finds the training center without difficulty, where he’s met by Marissa, who has something to do with social media, though Alex is still too nervous to catch exactly what she says. 

She ends up spending the time clearly trying to sell him on the Coyotes’ improved chances this year but he isn’t waiting long, before he hears:

“Alex, a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” and this must be Chayka because Alex recognizes the coach at his side from seeing him on the opposing team's bench last season. Chayka has a strong handshake and a direct gaze, and Alex feels his shoulders tightening; he has to make a good impression - he’s spent too many years on a team with a GM and coaches who didn’t get along with him, he doesn’t want to go through that again.

Coach Tocchet greets him more warmly, and reiterates his welcome from their telephone conversation, “We’re glad to have you here, Alex.”

Alex hopes he means it. He wants to have a real fresh start here.

They lead him into a small office and Chayka starts, “Thank you for coming in, Alex. If you’re alright with it, we have a few questions for you, and I’m sure you have a few for us too.”

Alex forces himself to smile and agree. They open with the sort of thing he was expecting; how his hockey camp went, what training he has done already, and what he has planned for the rest of the summer.

They don’t say it explicitly but Alex knows he needs to work harder, Papa’s already told him that, and it's better to be on the same page as his coach about what aspects they want him to focus on. Of course, it also helps him if the team can give him a single direction too, his father is more likely to respect an actual written training or diet plan than Alex’s own recollections of what he was told. 

They are all topics Alex is happy to discuss but can’t be why they really wanted to speak to him, he knows full well about all the rumors flying around and they had to want to ask him about something to do with them. It makes Alex feel tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“So, we talked about this a little already, but we wanted to discuss how we want to play you next season,” Tocchet says. “Though obviously we can’t promise anything until after training camp-”

Alex is relieved when they still say they’re willing to give him the opportunity to play center, probably on the second line. Papa might not be happy about the latter but he should be satisfied enough by seeing Alex at center, even though Alex knows he needs to work on his face offs to stay there. It's just every time he gets into the circle he can hear all the voices of his past coaches, with his father's loudest, telling him how bad he is at it.

It seems to be going well, certainly better than he’d feared, and Alex is just starting to think maybe there isn’t anything more, when Chayka leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Of course, we do have a few concerns.”

Alex feels his stomach drop. He isn’t entirely certain what’s coming next but he is fairly sure he won’t like it.

Chayka first broaches the topic of the stories in the press about the influence Alex’s father has on him. “Do you feel they were accurate?”

“I know he can be little overbearing,” Alex admits, “but he was professional hockey player all his career. He only wants for me to live up to my potential.”

“He never played in the NHL though, did he?” Tocchet asks, somewhat pointedly.

“He didn’t,” Alex admits.

“Well, other professional leagues aren't quite the same as the NHL,” Chayka says. It sounds as though he’s trying to be diplomatic about it and, for a moment, Alex wishes this wasn’t necessary.

“We just need to know you’re on the same page as everyone else on the team,” Tocchet says. “For us to be successful everyone needs to be listening to the team coaches and not pulling in his own direction.” 

Alex agrees with them but knows he still won't be able to say anything different to his father when he calls, he’s tried before and it just makes it worse. For a moment he wonders if that might be all as Chayka shuffles some papers on the desk and then looks across to Tocchet. Alex feels a flash of cold dread.

“What about other relationships?” asks Tocchet, and it seems like a rehearsed question. “You’re not married, but you have a girlfriend, right?”

Alex clenches his hands and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t like talking about his relationship, cautious after everything that had happened. Some of his now former teammates, and a lot of the Canadiens’ team staff too, had gotten on really well with Rachel, while others seemed to take an immediate dislike to her. Still, the question itself isn’t that hard to answer. “That’s right.”

“And will she be moving with you?” he continues. “If there are any immigration concerns, the office should be able to help you out.”

That doesn’t sound too bad. “We haven’t really discussed that yet.” Is it his imagination, or is the look they give each other significant?

“But you have a stable relationship?” Apparently it is Chayka’s turn to push. “This isn’t the same girlfriend as the … incident in Montreal?”

It was always The Incident in Alex’s mind, since that was how the Canadiens PR team had kept referring to it. “She is, but it’s fine,” he reassures them. “It won’t happen again. I apologized at the time and I know that sort of thing isn’t good for the team’s publicity.”

He should have stopped Devo calling the police in the first place, sucked it up. It wasn't like Rachel had hit him that hard, just that blows to the nose tended to bleed. And he shouldn’t have had people over without asking her permission. But it was fine, as Therrien had said, he had learnt from his mistake and wouldn’t do that again.

As Alex assures them he has learned from the experience, the two of them exchange another look which makes him uncomfortable. It reminds him too much of the way Devo had looked at him when Therrien had made him apologise, like they can see something wrong that Alex can’t, especially as they don’t seem entirely happy with what he'd said. But it's true, Rachel keeps him in line and Alex should have known better than to provoke her like that.

Though they don’t seem satisfied with his answer, they move back onto safer ground asking instead about his injury history, since he’d had surgery on his ACL back in Sarnia and then injured his knee again in Montreal. “Depending on how long you’re staying in Phoenix, perhaps we could arrange for the team doctors to carry out a full medical?”

Alex had already sent them a report from Minsk, and wouldn’t normally be due another medical evaluation until the start of training camp, since he isn’t currently rehabbing any injuries. He half-suspects it’s an excuse to arrange a drug test and, while he can’t blame them with all the rumors swirling around, he’s been clean all summer, they’re not going to pick anything up. It’s honestly easier to just get drunk when he doesn’t have to worry about having a game the next day and alcohol’s much easier to get hold of too.

He must hesitate too long as Tocchet says, “No obligation, of course, it just might help with our discussions about your training regime.”

And not agreeing would probably look more suspicious, given the drugs rumors. Alex shrugs. “Sure, no problem.”

They both seem satisfied with his answer and, after a little more small talk, Alex is finally able to leave. They seem genuine when they say they are looking forward to seeing what he can do for them on the ice.

Alex manages to make it out of the building before he has to stop and try to steady his breathing against the tightness in his chest. He is desperate for a drink but reminds himself that, all in all, it had still been better than some of the more recent conversations he'd had with Coach Julien.

He can still hear Julien’s voice in his head, “Are you even trying to win these face-offs, Alex? You can’t keep on giving away turnovers like that and expect to be able to play center.”

He’d gotten two points that night, and the goal he’d been on the ice for hadn’t even been his turnover, but he’d lost more face-offs than he’d won and that had been enough to put Coach Julien on the warpath. “If you keep this up, you better not expect to get top minutes.”

Alex pushes away the memories; Arizona is going to be better. It has to be.

Back at the hotel, Alex downs a beer from the mini-bar before texting Rachel; a simple “ _What’s your flight details?_ ”

Rachel responds with a Snap of her boarding pass and Alex is immediately confused. He is sure Rachel had agreed she would meet him in Phoenix, he even thinks he remembers how they’d discussed whether she would book her own flight or if he was going to do it, but the pass says LAX. “ _Are you changing there for PHX?_ ” he asks.

Immediately his phone rings. “I’m not coming to Phoenix,” Rachel says, as soon as he picks up. “I told you that. You’re supposed to be meeting me in L.A.”

“I only just got out of my meeting,” Alex tells her. He doesn’t remember L.A. being mentioned at all but he must have misunderstood. 

“So when’s your flight?”

“I don’t have anything booked, I thought you were coming here,” he says. There is only silence on the line. “I'm sorry. I'm really sorry,” he says, not wanting her to be angry.

“If you were truly sorry, you wouldn't keep messing up like this,” Rachel says, sounding tired.

“I’ll get there as quickly as I can,” Alex promises. As soon as he gets off the phone, he books a new flight but he can’t get anything until the next morning. He emails Rachel his flight details but knows she won’t be happy with them. 

“ _With all your money, you really couldn’t get a flight today?_ ” She refuses his call, texting back to say, “ _I don’t want to talk to you right now_.” 

Alex feels sick, he hates it when she’s upset with him, and he ends up needing a few of the little bottles out of the mini-bar to ease the weight in his chest enough to sleep.

There are no messages waiting for him in the morning and, though she hasn’t said she’ll meet him at the airport, he knows she usually wants to, so he texts her to confirm his flight is on time. Hopefully she will be calmer by the time he arrives. Meeting in public usually keeps her temper in check but he doesn’t want to provoke her. 

Alex turns his phone on as soon as he lands to find a brief message. “ _In Starbucks_.” He collects his bags as quickly as he can and makes his way over to the cafe. Rachel looks at her watch when she sees him and Alex feels his heart sink.

“What took you so long?” she demands.

“Sorry,” Alex says instinctively. He puts his bags down and leans in to kiss her. She pulls back slightly so he only gets her cheek.

“I’ll get a coffee—”

She grabs his wrist and he freezes. It looks affectionate but he can feel her fingers digging in, the edges of her nails sharp, and knows from experience it will probably leave a mark. He was fortunate that he could normally disguise any bruises as hockey injuries, but it will be harder to explain during the off-season. Alex takes a deep breath and waits.

Rachel forces him to hold her gaze for a long moment. Alex doesn’t know what she is searching for but tries to look appropriately contrite. Then, “I’ll have a caramel latte,” she says, letting go. Alex’s heart is racing. “Half-caf, soy milk.”

He comes back with her order and a plain Americano for himself.

Rachel frowns. “You didn’t get anything to eat?”

Alex rubs his neck self-consciously. He doesn’t really have much of an appetite. “Nothing here’s really on my diet plan.”

“It won’t hurt to have a treat,” she says. “You’re still far too skinny. You eat such a bland diet during the season, you can live a little.”

Fortunately, her phone chimes at just that moment to say their Uber is arriving and Alex is relieved by the interruption.

Rachel has already got them a hotel room but she seems to be happy with staying in L.A. for now, so Alex’s first priority is to find a property to rent for the next few weeks. There isn’t much available at such short notice but Alex is able to find a condo on the beach, albeit in a less prestigious area than Rachel would have liked.

“If it’s all you can manage, I suppose it’ll do,” she says.

Alex doesn’t know what to do next. He thought they’d go house-hunting in Phoenix but he hadn’t been expecting to stay there for long. He’d been planning to head back to Montreal after that, for a few days at least, to check on his flat and Diego. Even if the cat ignored him, Alex misses having him around and the family dog wasn’t the same. 

He’d assumed, whether Rachel came back to Montreal with him or not, they’d then spent the rest of the summer in Miami like usual, and probably his parents and Anna would be around too at some point. He hadn’t planned on L.A. at all and isn’t really sure where things stand right now.

“We don’t have to stay here,” he offers, still confused. “I can train just as easily in Montreal or Miami.”

She shakes her head. “L.A.’s better for me than _Phoenix_ —” She sneers the name. “I’m not living there during the season, so it’d be better for us to look for houses here.”

Alex is surprised she would be willing to live apart from him; it might only be an hour and a half on the plane, but he can hardly commute to work. He can’t see how this is going to work, but isn’t going to argue with her this soon.

Instead he calls his usual trainer in Miami, who recommends him someone local and, when he isn’t training, they start house-hunting.

Alex ends up confused about what they’d agreed they wanted and feels guilty that either he hadn’t been paying enough attention to what Rachel had said or he’d misunderstood somehow. Most of the time his English is good enough, even if his accent means people expect him to be less fluent, but sometimes idioms or other figures of speech catch him out.

Nothing they see is quite right and Rachel insists she’d wanted something more modern, open-plan. Alex thought she wanted something with more character. She had complained about how soulless his Montreal apartment was, when they talked about finding somewhere new there.

He takes the realtor to one side to apologize for the waste of her time and to arrange another appointment to find something more suitable.

As soon as they are alone again, Rachel turns on her. “What did you say to her?” she demands.

Alex swallows down the instinct to jump on the defensive, it never helps. “Just that this wasn’t the right style for us. We make new appointment for two days’ time.”

Rachel scowls. “That’s not what I said. It just wasn’t as big as the last one.”

It is exhausting trying to keep up. Alex sometimes wishes she would take over so he doesn’t have to keep track of what she wants, but he knows it wouldn’t be fair on her to have to deal with all the hassle.

The next day they go out for lunch and Alex makes the mistake of smiling at the woman who comes to take their order. Rachel kicks him under the table and he looks down at the menu instead, though it feels rude.

When their food comes, she is quick to frown. “Are you sure you should eat that?”

It’s not entirely on his diet plan but, for this early in the summer, it’s good enough. “Yes?”

“You’re putting on weight, you know,” she says. “Aren’t you supposed to eat healthily as an athlete?”

Alex is supposed to put on some weight over the summer; the season took it out of them, even if they hadn’t made the playoffs. Perhaps it is too much, though. He couldn’t help himself pointing out, “Last time you said my food was too bland.”

“I didn’t say that, that was you.” Rachel gives him a pitying look, as though he must have been confused.

Alex finds his appetite has gone. It’s not the first time it turned out he’d completely misremembered a conversation; he really needs to pay more attention.

Apparently done with judging his food choices, Rachel returns to her favorite complaint: that he has spent too much time visiting his family. “I had plans for what we could do this summer, but now they’ve been cut short. Not that your trade has helped.”

She said the same about visiting his family every year, although his father claimed the opposite and in truth it never felt as though he got long enough with them. When Papa had been playing, they’d spent the entire offseason at Baba and Dedu’s house and Alex has fond memories of those summers.

Something of his nostalgia must show in his expression as Rachel’s eyes narrow. “What did you tell them about me?”

He wishes he’d ordered a stronger drink with his meal. “Just that you were too busy.”

“I could have come over for a week. You didn’t ask me.”

He definitely had, Alex is sure of it, but Rachel always makes him doubt himself. Still, he feels bad that he hadn’t missed her that much, though he knows he should have; just another demonstration of how bad a boyfriend he is. 

Whenever she complains, he wishes she would have just gone with him but in many ways it had been something of a relief that she hadn’t joined him, since she and Anna don’t get along at all. Alex doesn’t understand why, since they have so much in common, but he hates being caught between them and it happens a lot during the season. 

Rachel doesn't like to share his attention, after spending over a month apart, so Alex doesn't have anyone else to talk to. He exchanges a few texts with Nail, who's persistent, and Gally keeps sending him Snaps, never seeming to care whether he gets a response.

A week later and the house-hunting still isn’t going well. Rachel wants something a lot bigger and fancier than Alex feels they need, for what ought to be a second home most of the year. Alex suspects he’ll end up giving into her in the end, especially if she does want to stay there over the season.

Rachel has chosen her ideal property and is trying to persuade him about it, talking about the large dining room for hosting dinner parties and how they need plenty of spare bedrooms. “I can invite all the girls down,” she says. “It’ll be great.” She loves to parade him around in front of her friends and, while sometimes it can be good to have other people around since she tends to withhold the worst of her criticism in front of company, it makes it worse when they leave, especially when the friends in question are single and female. 

It doesn’t matter how many times Alex says he isn’t interested in anyone else, Rachel says that all men cheat and always accuses him of having flirted with them if he speaks to them at all, or being rude and scaring them away if he avoids talking to them.

He feels bad that she’s been cheated on before, and he knows some guys on the team do sleep around when they’re on road trips, but he wasn’t raised to find that sort of thing acceptable. When he says that though, she only laughs and says that’s why no-one believes he’s really an American, which always make him feel awkward.

About three weeks after Alex arrives in L.A., they have one of the worst kinds of argument. Rachel yells at him about a towel he apparently left on the floor and Alex tries not to show how much her shouting upsets him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” 

“You _always_ do this,” she interrupts. “Why can’t you remember to pick up after yourself? You never pull your weight around the house.”

That’s unfair, given he literally pays for a cleaning service for their apartment so neither of them have to do much. Still, he struggles to give her the answers she wants, always seeming to blank on the English words he wants at the worst moment. “I did the—стипки—the washing clothes—”

“You know I don’t speak Russian, Alex,” she snapped. “You mean ‘laundry’? I don’t know how you’re not embarrassed, you need to speak properly.”

As though he isn’t self-conscious enough of his accent. Alex tries again. “I did the laundry yesterday.”

They are in the kitchen, Alex at the sink emptying leftovers into the garbage disposal and she is chopping salad. Rachel gesticulates with the knife and Alex tries not to focus on it but then there is a flash of metal before his eyes.

Alex startles and looks at the knife sticking out of one of the tupperware containers he was using. It has actually gone through the plastic and Alex struggles to keep his breathing steady. An inch or so to the side and it could have been his hand, or worse. He can’t believe she just did that.

“What’s the matter?” she snaps.

“It went through the box,” he says and can hear the shakiness in his voice.

“What? And?” She looks annoyed at his reaction. “I was aiming it at the sink not you, why do you always have to make such a fuss?”

Alex bites his lip to stop himself getting more upset. “I’m sorry,” he ends up saying, even though he still doesn’t know what he did to provoke it. He’s always done something. 

“You’re so immature,” she complains. 

Still shaken from that altercation, Alex opens his emails to find one from Coyotes' management. He was expecting a message to arrange for him to see their medical staff or trainers and the email starts well, talking about PR obligations and the Fan Festival they’re planning in September.

It continues with how they are looking forward to seeing him in training camp then it changes tone and goes on to say they do things differently to Montreal, and they believe he will have the best chance of succeeding if he is able to avoid external distractions this year. They heavily imply that Rachel is one such distraction and Alex feels like his heart has stopped. 

With that in mind, they ask him if he will consider sharing a house with one of his team-mates, to provide an alternative support system, and Alex is actually tempted. Sometimes living with Rachel is great but not always and, though it is hard work, sharing is better than living alone.

Approaching her about it is another matter. “I was thinking…” he starts and Rachel frowns at him.

“I don’t think you’re qualified to do that,” she says. It’s one of her favorite jokes, the fact he’d never technically finished high school, by North American standards at least.

Alex forces himself to laugh it off and continue. “You say you don’t want to live in Phoenix so Coyotes have made me offer to find housemate. So I thought, I could buy big place here for us and you don’t need to come with me at all, can just stay here?”

Her eyes flash dangerously and Alex feels suddenly nervous. “Well, if you’d rather not live together anymore...”

“That’s not what I say—” he protests.

“Well, it’s your choice,” she says. “Do you want me or the Coyotes?”


	3. Chapter 3

Alex feels stunned, dizzy as her words echo through his head — he loves her but how can he choose her over hockey? How can she expect him to? He hesitates for longer than he’d want to admit over that; it’s true that he’s only going to be on the team a few years at most and that she’s there for the rest of his life, yet somehow it sounds more of a threat right now than a dream of a future.

“You can’t ask me that,” he pleads. Playing in the NHL is all he wanted since he was a child, and what would he even do if he wasn’t playing?

“Is that your answer?” she asks coldly.

His hands are shaking. “No! Just let me work something out.”

Rachel narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t take too long.”

She walks out, leaving Alex in turmoil. He feels alternately sick at the thought and angry at her for forcing him to make such a choice.

The bedroom door slams and shortly after he hears the shower running. Alex finishes the bottle of wine they started over dinner and debates opening another.

He expects Rachel to come back to finish off the argument and is disconcerted when she doesn’t. The condo is too quiet but when he tries to put the TV on it seems far too loud. Alex gives up and goes to her but when he gets there he finds the bedroom door locked. 

It’s been a while since she’s locked him out, and at least this time he is inside the apartment, but Alex is still thrown off balance by it. He doesn’t understand why she’s doing this.

Alex sleeps in the spare room but wakes up far too early, heart pounding without knowing why. He goes for a run to try to clear his head and when he gets back Rachel is in the kitchen. As soon as he enters, she turns her back on him and walks out without speaking. Alex is left open-mouthed in shock.

The next couple of days pass the same, with Rachel giving him the silent treatment, refusing to stay in the same room as him. Alex isn’t sure if she is punishing him for daring to suggest such an arrangement at all, or if she realizes he is still thinking it over, but either way it doesn’t exactly convince him he wants to stay.

Still, every time he thinks about going to her and telling her his decision Alex feels himself freeze up, his jaw tight and a lump in his throat. 

He thinks about going to someone else for advice but who could he ask? Nail is pretty much the only one of his close friends who’ll still listen to him talking about Rachel and _he_ loves hockey so much he’s gone back to Russia to play.

Still, Alex can’t delay forever, he has to talk to her, but he has a drink first to calm his nerves. 

“Please, Rachel,” he pleads, as she turns to walk away again. “I don’t want to choose, but you know it has to be hockey. Besides, I have two years left on my contract. I can’t just walk away.”

“But you’ll just walk away from me?” she says, as though she wasn’t the one trying to force him to make a choice.

“That’s your choice, not mine.”

She turns on him suddenly, sounding angry. “I didn’t mean it like that. I should have known you wouldn’t stand up to them.”

Alex blinks in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean—” 

Rachel continues as though he hadn’t spoken. “I saw what their email said — they think I’m a distraction. Well, so be it, you’ll never find anyone else as good to you as I am. I put up with a lot from you.”

Of course, she knows all his passwords, had probably read it for herself that first evening. Alex knows she is probably right about him not finding anyone better, but something inside him says he should take the opportunity to have some space. Part of him wonders if he wouldn’t be better off alone anyway, where he can’t inconvenience anyone else.

Still, he throws her own words back at her, “If I'm so useless, why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“I keep hoping you’ll learn,” she says. “Evidently I was wrong.”

It feels like a physical blow but Alex manages to reply, “Maybe you be happier without me around then.”

He can feel his eyes burning but he refuses to cry in front of her. He tries to remind himself how tired he gets of the constant criticism and suspicion but really he knows he’s lucky to have her.

Rachel doesn’t seem to realize he is serious about leaving now until she comes into the bedroom to find him folding clothes into his cases. “What are you doing?”

“Packing?” Alex answers. He didn’t mean it to be a question but he doesn't understand why she is asking.

Her smile looks somewhat forced as she sits down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t need to take everything now. I’ll still be here once you’ve calmed down and realized I’m right.”

Alex feels entirely calm, though his hands are shaking. It isn’t the first time he’s tried to break up with her and she has insisted that it is only a temporary separation. Of course, she has always been right about that before.

Having been through this before, Alex knows that anything he leaves behind he might as well forget about, it won’t be the first time she has destroyed his things when angry at him, which is why Anna keeps hold of all his hockey memorabilia. Jerseys are replaceable, gold medals aren’t.

“Sure,” he tells her, not wanting to argue, but he keeps packing everything away anyway.

The condo is paid for until the end of the summer, so she can stay there as long as she likes and, if the Coyotes need more time to sort something out for him, Alex still owns his apartment in Montreal, for now at least, though Anna was going to arrange to put it on the market when she got back.

Then again, perhaps he should worry about Rachel having keys to the apartment, but a lot of her stuff is there too, it wouldn't be fair to push her out. 

After the last time, Alex has an idea how she will react but he has to take the chance of a fresh start. Even if he suspects he will probably end up missing her and trying to come to a compromise, right now he is tired. At least the Coyotes will see that he tried and probably, once they’ve met her, she’ll charm them like she had the team staff in Montreal.

He thinks about getting a new phone too, since he knows Rachel has a tracker set up on this one, but if they get back together they’ll want it again. Perhaps, if or when they do make up, he can justify it as having needed a proper US call plan.

Alex checks into a hotel for a night, though he barely sleeps waiting for a message, despite clearing out the room's fridge of minis. When he hasn’t heard from Rachel by the morning Alex, emails the team and tells them he’ll accept their offer and books a flight back to Phoenix that afternoon. 

The Coyotes' office don't say anything about the short notice as they let him know they’ve arranged for Demers to meet him at the airport. Alex can’t risk getting drunk on the flight but he manages to knock back a couple of shots in the lounge at L.A. beforehand.

Alex looks up Demers to check his half-remembered mental picture and he’s pretty much the stereotype of a hockey player: beard, missing teeth and all. He needn’t have worried as Demers spots him first, greeting him with “Call me Daddy,” which makes Alex feel slightly nauseous until he vaguely remains Jordie Benn, who'd played with Demers in Dallas, mentioning how that is inexplicably his nickname. 

The other man is friendly, keeping up a stream of conversation as he drives, mostly about the best places to eat out.

“Make yourself at home,” he tells Alex, when they get back to his place, as though they don’t both know Alex is there because the team management doesn’t trust him on his own. 

He doubts Demers really wants to be a babysitter so promises, “You'll hardly know I'm there.” The house is plenty big enough that they don't need to be in one another's pockets. The look he gets in return seems to say Demers doesn't believe him.

Once he’s settled in his room Alex knows he needs to let Anna know where he is, though he doesn’t want to hear her reaction to the breakup since she and Rachel have never got on. Even though he knows Anna will be able to tell something is wrong anyway, Alex calls rather than Skyping so he doesn't have to see her face. 

“Sasha?” Anna sounds worried. “What’s the matter? What’s she done now?”

He should have considered that Anna would probably think he didn’t want her to see _him_. “We’ve broken up,” Alex says, his voice catching despite his best efforts.

“That’s great!” she says.

Alex fights the urge to cry before she continues, “Are you sure you're alright?”

Predictably, as soon as she hears what happened she is quick to complain about Rachel's attitude. “You know, I told you last time she wouldn't change but you wouldn't listen.” 

“I need to ask you a favor,” Alex says, cutting her off.

“Of course, anything.” Anna is happy to arrange for a locksmith to change the locks on his flat in Montreal and call the cat-sitter to let them know about the changes. She even agrees that she will fly back earlier to check on Diego herself.

Rachel had never liked his cat and the feeling was mutual; Diego had hissed at her the first time they met and wouldn’t ever let her pet him. She dislikes animals in general, and perhaps Alex should have taken that as a sign of their incompatibility.

She had tried several times to persuade Alex to give Diego away, arguing that he wasn’t home enough to look after a pet properly. Then again, the travelling was a constant point of contention with Rachel anyway, with her telling him often how lucky he was she put up with how much he was away, and that someone else wouldn’t.

Alex usually arranged for someone to drop in every day to sort food and the litter box when he was away since he knew Rachel wouldn’t, and Diego stayed with a cat-sitter when he was on a long road-trip.

Even on homestands, Alex lived in fear of coming home to find Diego had thrown up on Rachel’s things or left her a dead mouse or something. He didn’t think he could have persuade her to keep him after that, not when he was pretty sure he’d seen her kick at him before, though she said it had been an accident.

After Anna, Alex knows he has to call his parents and when his father hears about the break-up he is less impressed. “Couldn’t you have worked things out?” he asks. “She was always such a nice girl.”

Of course, he’s right; it would have been easier if she hadn't always reminded Alex that she only had his best interests at heart, if only he wasn't so difficult. That doesn't mean he wants to hear that now.

Papa immediately offers to fly out. “I can rent somewhere and you can live at home like we did in Sarnia.”

Alex's memories of that year are less fond than his father's seemed to be. He remembers skating or working out under his father's supervision whilst the rest of the team were in classes. Papa noted there was little point Alex struggling with school in English for a couple of years when he really needed to be working on his hockey. “You're not going to make a living with your brains,” he had said.

Alex doesn’t think he could cope with living with his father during the season. It’s bad enough when he visits and is there all day: from before practice, sitting watching in the stands, then meeting up afterwards. He knows Papa means well; Alex honestly appreciates how well he knows him and his skating, but it is tiring after a while and he’s usually glad to get to training camp after a summer training with him. It's the last thing he wants this summer.

He speaks to Mama who agrees she will talk Papa round or at least put him off visiting until Alex has a chance to settle in. She gives him a long look. “Are you happy, Sashenka?”

She is the first one to ask that and there is a lump in his throat as Alex manages to reassure her, “I will be, Mama.”

The first time Rachel calls him, the day after he arrives back in Phoenix, Alex hesitates before answering since he is determined to make a clean break this time, but he misses her. Misses the good times: curling up on the sofa together, her telling him all about her work, talking about their holiday plans.

It starts off well, Rachel just seeming to want to catch up, as though it was any other time they were apart, but her tone soon turns hard. “Sitting in your room alone. Is your hockey worth it now, Alex?”

He resists the urge to recoil, as though he could ever escape her words. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

“You’re the one who left,” she snarls.

As soon as she raises her voice, Alex can feel his heart racing. He feels bad enough without her berating him for his decision.

She ends the call and Alex is left shaking. He badly wants a drink but hasn’t had a chance to get out and buy anything.

Alex doesn't want to inconvenience Demers so sticks to his room, only coming out for meals, though he doesn’t have much of an appetite. He makes sure to be a good house guest, clearing up after himself, helping load the dishwasher, where he is relieved that Demers doesn't seem to have any kind of system he can mess up.

Rachel keeps calling him every night and she goes from reasonable — telling him she only wants him to come back, to outright vicious — listing out all his faults, sometimes within the same call.

Alex tries to draw the conversation back to practical matters since there are things they need to settle, like moving her stuff out of the flat in Montreal, but she isn’t interested.

Alex is used to talking to her every night when they are apart, but he’s also used to receiving a constant stream of texts, instant messages, requests for Snaps, as she likes to keep track of where he is and what he’s doing. It’s somewhat disorientating to check his phone after a couple of hours in the gym to find his only notifications are from the NHL app.

Their nightly conversations, however frustrating, are a dose of normality, which Alex badly wants but also a reminder that, even if it doesn’t always feel like it, he’s made the right choice.

Alex keeps a bottle of vodka in his room so he can have a drink before bed if he needs the help to sleep. It doesn’t help alleviate the feeling that she is right, that he does need her.

After a few days, Demers tries to encourage him to come out of his room. “Look, kid,” he says, leaning in the doorway. “I know being traded sucks but you can't keep hiding in here.”

“It's not—” Alex feels his shoulders tense and tries not to sound too defensive. “I'm not hiding. It's just, I broke up with my girlfriend.”

“Oh shit, I'm sorry.”

Demers looks like he feels bad so Alex hurries to reassure him. “No, it's okay. Maybe for the best, you know?”

“Still, I didn't mean to pry.” Demers’ face suddenly lights up. “You know what this calls for?”

At a loss with the sudden change of topic, Alex shakes his head.

“Come on,” Demers says and heads down the stairs.

Alex follows him to the kitchen, where Demers is pulling mini tubs of ice cream out of the freezer. “Not on our diet plan,” he objects.

Demers just makes a rude noise. “Screw the diet plan. It's August, there's plenty of time to work it off. So, Cookie Dough or Fudge Brownie?”

Reluctantly, Alex picks one and Demers passes him a spoon and opens the other tub himself. Alex relaxes a little, at least it's not a subtle way of sabotaging his diet.

“We just need a sad movie to really stay on theme,” Demers says thoughtfully and that's how they end up on the sofa watching The Notebook. This isn’t how Alex had expected to be spending an evening with a teammate and he doesn't understand much of the film, but it's the thought that counts.

It is the best part of a month until training camp but the thought of going anywhere, having to explain what happened to people, is too much. Alex isn't used to having to make that sort of decision for himself. He knows his father would be happier if he would go back to Minsk for the rest of the offseason, or maybe agree to meet them in Miami as he's done the last couple of years, but he can't face the flight. 

He should probably head up to Montreal to sort his flat there himself but he doesn't want to risk running into any of his former teammates or worse, the Montreal press. Besides, even if Anna has had the locks changed, Rachel still has plenty of friends who could put her up there and he doesn't know how well his resolve would hold out against seeing her in person.

The thought of interacting with anyone seems like a lot of effort and Alex continues to ignore the occasional message from his former teammates. Nail is the only one who refuses to give up, despite the time difference, and they talk about basically anything except his relationship. Alex appreciates his tact.

Alex forces himself to channel all his energy into training — at least that is something he can still do right, but the effort to keep going everyday is exhausting and he's either allergic to something in Arizona or else coming down with a cold as he seems to have a constant sore throat. All he wants to do when he gets in every night is have a drink and then sleep.

As the summer goes on, Rachel’s calls get more frequent, until she is phoning him multiple times a day, at all hours. This was always the point Alex had given in before but he doesn’t see how he can this time. After one night where she wakes him twice calling, his trainer tells him off for being distracted, which is the last thing he needs. 

The first time he misses a call Rachel doesn't even leave a voicemail and he starts to hope, but the vitriol he is met with next time they speak is hard to bear. She tells him he was never that good anyway, that she’s going out to find someone else who can satisfy her better.

Alex wants to get properly drunk to block it out but he can't afford to turn up to training hungover when he still needs to prove himself to the Coyotes. He's sure how he's doing is getting back to them, whether through the trainer directly or via Demers or someone else training with them. If he knew where to get it, he'd go for the high of coke to take him out of his head for a couple of hours, but that's not an option either.

Training camp finally comes around up but it is hard to keep his focus, never knowing when the next call is coming. He can’t even turn his phone off as his father would be annoyed if Alex missed his calls. The stress is getting to him and Alex can’t ever seem to catch his breath. 

The second evening of camp he is on the phone to his father when Demers walks in. Alex tries to turn away, not wanting his new teammate to see his wet eyes and realize how weak he is, but he is too late. Demers double takes, and gestures at the phone, mouthing, “Your ex?”

Alex shakes his head and tilts the phone towards him, his father’s voice echoing out of the speaker. He is well into the flow of one of his usual litanies about how Alex should improve his game but it isn’t like Demers speaks Russian. Alex is startled as Demers literally takes the phone off him, hangs up the call, then shuts the phone off before it can ring again. 

Alex stares, open-mouthed, for a moment then tries to explain that he needs to hear it but it doesn’t sound convincing even to him. “He only wants what’s best for me.”

“If that was the case, why are you crying?”

Alex doesn’t have an answer for that, everyone just seems such a lot at the moment. “I need to call him back,” he says instead.

“Tell him your battery ran out,” Demers suggests.

Alex feels guilty lying to Papa but he needs a break. At least with his phone off, Rachel can’t get to him either.

The next time his father calls and starts in on all his faults, Alex somehow finds the strength to hang up by himself but it leaves him feeling rattled. His chest hurts and he can’t take a deep breath but he can’t sit still either. His hands are shaking and he can almost hear his father’s voice telling him to, “Breathe properly, damnit. Stop being so dramatic!” 

He hates feeling this way but at least there is no-one around to see how he is falling apart. Besides, the time he is remembering had been worse, he hadn’t been able to catch his breath at all even when his father slapped him. 

Once Alex can breathe again, he feels guilty for hanging up and calls back to apologize. He realizes his mistake as his father picks up where he left off. When Alex finally gets off the phone, his heart is racing. Somehow he manages to calm himself down with a couple of beers but he sleeps badly. 

The next day the coaching staff institutes a ban on using phones during camp and it’s hard not to see a connection there but Demers just looks blankly at him when he tries to bring it up.

The rest of training camp is easier and, whether they realize and are doing it deliberately or not, the way the team and coaches praise him for doing what his father, and probably Coach Julien too, would have deemed “just what was expected for a first round pick” helps him a lot with believing that perhaps he hadn’t deserved the criticism he’d received before. 

Alex feels like he is fitting in with the team, and they seem genuine with their support. It’s a little weird that, since nicknames don’t always carry over from one team to another, some of them are calling him ‘Gally’ rather than ‘Chucky’ as he’s used to. He used to be ‘Gally’ with his Team USA boys, but now it always has him looking for Brendan and being reminded he doesn’t have any close friends here yet. Gally texts him regularly and Alex has even replied a few times but they haven’t really talked properly since the trade. 

No one has asked him about any of the rumors which came out of Montreal, but he knows that doesn't mean they're not talking about him behind his back. He is coming back from the trainer's room one day when he hears Demers saying, “No, his ex was a real piece of work.”

Whoever he is talking to, and the hint of the accent makes him think it's Ekman-Larsson, asks, “I saw some things online. Is it really true?”

Alex beats a hasty retreat before he can hear Demers either admit how weak he was or else try to lie to their captain for his sake.

Team dynamics leave him with one other minor issue. Personal space isn’t really a thing on hockey teams, but there is a difference between casual contact, which Alex was used to from Gally, and someone looming over him, which he had less good associations with. Rachel was only taller than him in heels but she used to come and stand over him when she wanted his attention. His father had the same knack for seeming taller than he was. 

Sitting down in his stall when a shadow falls over him, Alex instinctively leans backwards, heart racing but it is only Crouse. Still, given Alex has practically lain down to get away from him, someone jokes, “Good to know you’re easy for it, Gally,” and they all laugh. 

It’s just locker room talk and he knows logically they don’t mean anything by it but Alex feels light-headed, hands tingling. Fortunately Demers notices his discomfort and comes to his rescue and Alex makes a mental note to avoid sitting next to Crouse when they’re out.

They go out drinking to celebrate the end of training camp and Alex keeps an eye out for anyone with something a little more interesting. He has never been on a team without someone who knows how to get coke and, while he’ll take whatever he can get to take the edge off things, nothing else can beats its high. 

No-one seems to be doing anything other than drinking though, perhaps aware this is a bar they’ve been noticed in before or maybe still trying to set a good example to the rookies, who shouldn’t be drinking in the US anyway, whatever they do in their own countries. Alex certainly doesn’t believe they’re all squeaky clean but he doesn’t want to be the one to bring up the subject.

Still, he’s used to drinking and, once everyone is a few beers in and he’s still pretty sober, he gets the usual teasing about Russians and their alcohol tolerance. He isn’t really drunk by the time Demers says he’s getting a taxi back but he knows he has the bottle in his room if he wants another.


	4. Chapter 4

Preseason starts with a loss against Vegas, which isn’t bad when they were playing their prospects against the Cup runners-up top lines. Alex didn’t have the greatest of games, and his pulse and mind are still racing when he runs into Patches in the hall. “Hey Chucky, how’s Arizona treating you?”

Alex forces a smile, which isn’t entirely false. Max is a great guy and he’d been a good captain, despite Bergevin’s divisiveness. Max already looks lighter without Montreal’s failures on his shoulders, so the last thing Alex wants to do is put any of it back. Fortunately, he’s used to redirecting conversations he doesn’t want to have, with teammates at least. “Too hot,” he says, with an exaggerated sigh. “And same here, no?”

“Tell me about it. It’s nearly 100 here, and it was mid-60s in Montreal!”

Alex is having to get used to Americans using Fahrenheit again so it takes a moment to translate to Celsius and back. “Was over 100 all last week in Phoenix.”

Max shudders. “I’m sure we’ll get used to it.”

Alex is relieved to have distracted his former captain and is saved from having to keep talking by Stepan turning up. Apparently his new teammate knows Patches from the Sochi Olympics team and Alex is able to make his escape.

They split the games against the Kings and the Ducks, with a couple of good wins at home but losing on the road, which still feels pretty good. Given their record the previous year, everyone seems pretty happy with that. Alex gets three points over the four games he plays, although it’s going to take him some getting used to playing the West coast teams this many times in a season.

At the same time, back in Montreal, Domi gets suspended and Alex feels weirdly vindicated that they aren’t getting anything out of the player they’d replaced him with.

Then they play Edmonton on the road and all the stress comes crashing back down. Alex doesn’t even know if Lucic remembers he and Nail are friends or if it’s just generically because he’s ‘Russian’ but the big winger slams him into the boards saying, “See how low you've sunk. How long until you end up in the KHL like Yakupov?” 

Alex shoves him away, wins the puck battle, but the words keep echoing, too similar to what his father had to say. He struggles to keep his hands steady and his focus narrows down. They win the game but Alex barely remembers how the rest of it goes.

They go to a club and Alex needs something to drown out the voices but he doesn’t have anything. He hasn't yet worked out who on the team knows where to get hold of coke, though someone must and he hasn't wanted to risk trying to find somewhere to get it in Phoenix by himself yet. All he can do is get drunk and he makes his best effort at that.

Some of the other guys pick up at the bar and Alex gets pushed into dancing with a girl who looks far too much like Rachel: tall, with long, blonde hair. He tries to say he’s not interested but she isn’t taking no for an answer until someone spills a drink over her and he manages to escape. He barely sleeps that night, his heart racing and his mind still swirling.

Ekman-Larsson sits next to him on the plane back and Alex feels his pulse pick up, wondering what he’s done wrong already, but OEL only asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” Alex tells him, not wanting to give anything away.

“Last night—”

“I’m not hungover,” Alex interrupts but the captain shakes his head.

“That wasn’t what I meant. I was just concerned.”

“You don't need to worry about me.” Alex says.

“That's what wearing the C means.” Ekman-Larsson smiles but it’s clear he’s not going to go away until he gets an answer. 

Reluctantly, since he clearly has to say something, Alex admits, “I haven't been feeling well. Sore throat.” 

Any hope that OEL might have been dissuaded at the thought of catching whatever he’s coming down with fades as the captain nods before continuing. “What did Lucic say to upset you?”

Alex definitely doesn't want to talk about that. “You know, the usual,” he says, as casually as possible. “Nothing worth repeating.” 

OEL frowns but persists. “What about the girl in the bar?”

He supposes he can give him that much. “She reminded me of my ex,” he says. 

Evidently whatever Demers had told him was enough for him not to pry further, as he looks sympathetic. “You know, I’m always available to talk if you need someone to help straighten things out.” 

He sounds genuine but Alex knows better than to believe anyone would want to listen to his problems. “I’ll be fine,” Alex assures him. He doesn't want to get a reputation for being difficult.

He wakes up the next morning with another headache and the ever-present sore throat. When he stumbles in practice, Tocchet sends him to the team doctor to get checked out.

Since Chayka and Tocchet know about his history, there's no hiding his current issues, even if the trainers would let him, but clearly someone has talked as they ask him flat out, “How are you coping here?”

“I'm fine,” Alex says, though he knows it doesn't sound convincing.

“I don't think you'd be here if you were,” the doctor says, getting Alex to open his mouth so he can see what's wrong.

Alex can't exactly disagree, with the doctor looking down his throat.

“Ulcers,” the doctor diagnoses. “You know, they're a fairly common symptom of stress.”

If that was the case, Alex thought he should have been ill for most of his time in Montreal.

They give him Tylenol and a medicated rinse to help his throat heal and insist on him missing the last preseason game against Vancouver. Since he clearly isn’t doing a great job holding everything together, they also tell him he needs to talk to someone about it.

Alex tries to deny that he needs it but they insist: “It's no different from seeing a trainer for a physical injury. You wouldn't refuse that, would you?”

He is scratched for the game, though officially they call it flu, while management helps arrange some professional assistance.

Rachel wasn’t very supportive when Alex went through the substance abuse programme in Montreal, which was one of the times they had broken up before. He shouldn’t be surprised that, when she calls him that night having heard about the scratch, she brings it up. “So, how have you fucked up there already? They don’t like your drinking either?”

“It’s not like that,” he says. “I’ve just got a sore throat, is all.”

“And you’re missing a game for it?” she asks, her tone almost amused. “Have your new team already worked out how useless you are then? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Alex grits his teeth. It hurts because it feels true — he’s sure he could have played through it — but he says, “It’s only pre-season. And there’s nothing wrong.”

"Really? What would your new team think if they knew how weak you are?"

Alex doesn't have an answer to that, since it speaks to his deepest fears. However sympathetic management here seems to be, Alex can’t believe he isn’t fucking everything up already.

He meets with the team’s chosen counselor in one of the training rooms at the rink and the man, Dr Hamling, is not what he expected; younger, with thick-rimmed glasses and his dark hair tied back in a bun. 

Alex expects to be patronized but the session is actually helpful, with the counselor reassuring him that stress is normal after a major change and giving him some practical tips and breathing exercises to try. It is a far cry from Montreal who always paid lip service to the Bell Let’s Talk campaigns at the same time as telling him to, effectively ‘put up and shut up’.

Not that Alex would probably have trusted any counselor in Montreal not to have been reporting back to the team, given what else about his private life seemed to make it to the ears of the press.

If Anna hadn’t found him having palpitations, which he’d later been told was a panic attack, and pushed him about how much he was drinking and what else he was taking, he would never have made the call. 

He should have known it was stupid thinking the line would actually be confidential and Alex decides he isn’t going to mention the drinking this time, and definitely not the coke, he's learnt better than to tell anyone here more than they already know. 

He isn’t able to get out of arranging further sessions, but if it’ll get him back in the line-up, Alex’ll take it. Besides, it’s so much better here that it must be Alex that is fucked up; what is wrong with him that he can’t even just be happy to be away from Bergevin and Montreal’s toxic atmosphere like P.K. had been?

Alex hasn't had the chance to ask Demers about pets though, even if he was willing, Anna isn't going to make it down to visit until after the season starts. In the meantime, he misses having Diego around to cuddle with.

He can’t help looking at what the press are saying. The Montreal news blogs are delighted he is proving them right and even some of the more neutral sites are questioning who really won the trade.

He doesn’t travel with the team to Dallas and at a low point, alone in the house, he accepts a call from his father. Papa is quick to tell him how useless he really is. “They are scratching you already! I didn’t give up the chance of a job in Moscow to travel to North America with you just so you could mess it up like this.”

Alex tries to appease him. “It’s nothing, Papa, just a cold.”

“Well, you’d better pull himself together and shape up,” Papa says. “Just because the Coyotes are not a good team, that isn’t an excuse for you to slack off.”

He swallows down the urge to defend _his_ team, it won’t do any good. “Of course, Papa.”

“You can’t do things like this if you want anyone to sign you when your contract is up.”

Alex just takes a deep breath. He doesn’t need to start worrying about his next contract until at least the end of the year, and who knows where he’ll be by then, but Papa won’t let it go.

The next morning Alex regrets listening to him but uses the harsh words to push himself. He needs to be better. Alex forces himself back into training and, though his throat still hurts, he manages to convince the trainers that he is definitely good to play. He is still expecting the other shoe to drop from the team, or management, or the coaching staff at least and feels uneasy when no consequences follow.

Even though he is still getting headaches, Alex is back in the line-up for their home opener against the Ducks. Not everyone on the team is supportive of him having missed two games, but at least none of them are actively hostile and some of them seem genuine when they tell him not to worry about it. Demers gives him a thumbs up from across the room and Ekman-Larsson makes a point of publicly mentioning how well he’d played in pre-season. 

It is good to play again, though he barely gets second line minutes and no special teams. After the game, the rest of the team seem to thaw toward him and, despite the loss, the atmosphere after the game is good.

In some ways the positivity makes it worse when Alex gets to turn his phone back on after the game and finds another string of text messages from Rachel. She has moved on from alternately telling him he’s made a mistake or that he’s worthless, to sending him texts and emails threatening to kill herself if he doesn't call her back.

Alex feels sick, a flash of memory of the first time she’d made the same threat, only back then he’d been there with her. He doesn’t remember what they’d been arguing about, something that had seemed minor at the time.

He hadn’t yet learned to get out of her way when she was in a temper and when she’d started to walk away he’d tried to get between her and the door. “Rachel, wait—” He remembers how she’d shoved him away and he’d stumbled into the table, knocking a glass onto the floor. 

She’d taken one glance at the resulting mess. “Look what you’ve made me do.”

Alex had tried to apologize but she’d turned and snatched up the car keys even as he tried to reach for them. “I’m going out,” she'd said. “Maybe I’ll drive into the Saint Lawrence, you’d be sorry then.”

“Please, Rachel,” he’d begged, shocked at the threat and terrified that she really meant it. “Don’t do this.” He’d have promised to do anything to stop her but she stormed out.

Barefoot, and with broken glass on the floor between them, Alex had hesitated to follow. He’d heard the door slam behind her, and a few moments later the sound of a car engine. Without a car of his own he couldn’t follow her but he’d tried calling around her friends only for them to laugh at how dramatic he was being.

When she’d eventually got back in the early hours of the morning, Alex was still awake. He’d been so relieved she’d come back in one piece that he’d immediately agreed with whatever she’d wanted.

Alex pulls himself back to the present. The timestamps are around the start of the game, which she must have known about. Despite his initial surge of fear, and the sickening memory, Alex reminds himself of all the times she said the same since and locked herself in the bathroom rattling the pill bottles, but not gone through with it.

He can't bring himself to ignore her completely though, so sends a text simply saying, “ _Game over now if you want to talk_.” It shows as delivered immediately then read about a minute later and Alex allows himself to relax. She doesn't call back.

They don’t have a long home stretch until the end of October so Alex is able to get to know his new teammates, while avoiding spending too much time with any of them individually. It isn’t that he doubts their overtures of friendship but, if he is careful with what he says to who, maybe they’ll believe he’s actually coping well.

Since Rachel’s last tactic didn’t work out, her next move is threatening to tell the press that he was aggressive towards her. “ _You think they wouldn’t believe me if I said you were moody and I was afraid you’d be violent?_ ” she messages him, when he doesn’t answer her calls. “ _Or that you cheated on me? You think my friends wouldn’t be happy to back me up? Who’d believe you?_ ”

She isn’t wrong that plenty of people would be more than happy to take her at her word but Alex screenshots the message, hoping it won’t come to that. “ _Don't do this_ ” he replies. “ _It's over, I'm not playing your games anymore_.”

“ _You still can't cope with playing without drinking_ ,” she says. “ _Why do you keep trying to do this to yourself? What are you trying to prove?_ ”

Of course, she’s right but Alex doesn’t know what to do about it. He’s tried responding, which doesn’t help since he can’t agree to go back, but neither does ignoring her. He supposes he could take the messages to someone, but it’s hardly real harassment. It would be more embarrassing for him to admit to being affected by it.

He starts getting increasingly anxious, memories from Montreal reaching even into his sleep. In his dream he’s trying to persuade Devo not to call the police, that it wasn’t a big deal, but his nose is bleeding and Devo has to stand between Alex and Rachel to stop her hitting him again. 

Alex wakes, heart racing, his mind still stuck in the past. The faces of his teammates, their friends, blurring into the police officers who’d attended. He remembers how their interview was; seeing the judgement in their expressions, and Alex finding himself pleading with them not to press charges. 

But it was the club’s reaction which had been worse, when the two of them had been called in to talk about it. Therrien had given them a long lecture, finishing with, “I hope you'll think about the organization in the future.”

Devo had looked stunned, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he said, “She hit him in the face...”

Therrien had only nodded. “And I'm sure Alex has learnt his lesson.”

Alex could feel his face throbbing in remembered pain. Sure, he'd learned. But he could tell Devo had still been angry and tried to reassure him it was okay. It was nothing he hadn’t heard already. “You must have done something to provoke her…” He always did.

Being made to apologize had been awful but Alex had understood the message. He wouldn’t let it happen again. Then, at the trade deadline, Devo was gone and Alex knew it was his fault.

He _had_ let it happen, again and again. He couldn’t ever seem to do things right but at least the police hadn’t been involved. Now he just has to keep it that way.

He knows he shouldn't call her back but it makes him feel sick to think that he’s let her down by choosing hockey over her and if she does follow through on her threats, well, he can’t take that chance. “Just promise you won't do anything stupid,” he pleads.

“So now you care? You’re so selfish, Alex. Of course, you can't have me inconveniencing your career.” Every time he calls she ends up making him feel small.

“I love you,” he says brokenly. It's still true, despite her recent behavior.

“If you really loved me,” she says, “you wouldn’t have left.”

There isn’t anything he can say to that. Clearly she’s right, he hadn’t loved her enough.

The season has started slowly, with the team hovering just under a .500 record in their first dozen games, which is already a huge improvement on the previous season, but they start to pick up more points as they head into November. Alex is scoring, though not as much as he’d like, but it seems enough to keep the coaching staff off his back, and no-one has suggested moving him back to wing yet. 

The press attention here isn’t as extreme as in Montreal, which is a relief, although Biz is definitely weird enough. Alex doesn’t object to being roped into his filming; it’s no worse than the stuff they used to have to do for Habs TV, and Biz’s friendly teasing reminds him of Prusty, who he realizes he misses.

Finally Rachel’s phone calls start to drop off but Alex can't seem to move on, though he knows it is pathetic. One day, after a late conversation and a particularly poor night’s sleep, the sound of a door slamming throws him back into a memory. Rachel had stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, and there was a grating, metallic noise and then silence.

Alex felt adrenaline racing through him, when her footsteps didn’t continue away, and the door handle rattled but didn’t turn.

“Can you open the door, Alex?” she asked, suddenly reasonable.

“Why?” he managed, feeling like his chest might burst with how hard his heart was beating. “You open it.”

“I can’t,” she said, tone still unexpectedly calm. “The handle’s come off.”

On the one hand he was trapped in the room, but on the other she couldn’t get to him now. He’d been caught between relief, at the temporary safety, and panic, knowing he was going to have to open the door at some point. He feels that same confusing mix of emotion now.

Increasingly it feels like the only thing letting him sleep through the night without bad dreams waking him is to have a couple of beers before bed. The collection of empty bottles starts to look so bad, Alex stops leaving them out where Demers might see, sometimes even sneaking a bag of them out of the house to drop into a dumpster.

Demers seems to have realized that Alex had only been keeping to his room to avoid imposing as he starts inviting him to do stuff together.

“You're American,” Demers argues, as he tries to persuade Alex to watch The Bachelor with him. “These are the stories of your people.”

“So why are you watching it?” Alex counters.

“Cultural exchange,” Demers says promptly and Alex can't help laughing as he lets himself be led into the TV room.

The contestants seem to spend a lot of time flirting, and not just with the person they're supposed to be impressing, sometimes even right in front of the lead, and Alex finds himself wincing.

“Not your thing?” Demers asks.

“I wouldn't have dared do that,” Alex says, more honestly than he meant to and Demers gives him a long look. He should have known better and tenses. Is this the point where his teammate realizes how useless he is and that he's not worth all the effort he's putting in.

“You say stuff like that a lot,” Demers says, leaning back on the sofa and looking at the screen as though he doesn't want to see Alex's response. Or maybe he thinks he's giving him some privacy? “‘She wouldn’t have liked that’ or ‘she wouldn’t have let me do that.’ Maybe it's not my place but to say, but exactly what were you getting out of the relationship?”

Alex is stunned but starts to defend Rachel. “She’s amazing person,” he said. “Very smart, most kind.” He tries to think of examples but realizes as he says it that she never showed him any of those positive qualities, only talked about them with other people.

“That's what I mean,” Demers tells him. “You deserve better.” 

Alex isn’t sure he believes that but it’s a relief to have someone else tell him it wasn’t right.

It’s hard to admit to how weak he’s been but he still has to attend regularly catch-ups with the team counsellor and, eventually, with Dr Hamling’s help, Alex starts to admit what the relationship had really been like. 

“There is a specific term for that kind of behavior,” Hamling tells him, when Alex describes it to him.

That night, Alex ends up googling gaslighting and coming to the realization that is exactly what Rachel had been doing. Every time she told him they hadn’t had a conversation he remembered having, or that he had agreed to something he never remembered hearing about before, especially when it involved spending money. Every time she told him the thing he remembered her doing or saying hadn't happened, or that he had actually done something different to what he remembered. It was all manipulation on her part.

Rachel had made him feel terrible for being so forgettable or unobservant, for being too busy to pay attention properly, but now Alex wonders if any of it had been true.

Several of the websites he finds talk about abusive partners — and it’s usually assumed to be men, which doesn’t make him feel great anyway — having their own mental health issues and he wonders if he had let Rachel down, if he should have done more to help.

“Even if that were the case,” Hamling says, “it wouldn’t be your responsibility to fix her mental health. You can support someone, but they have to be willing to put the work in too.”

Reluctantly Alex agrees with that.

“Besides,” the counselor continues, “your own mental health has to come first. You fly a lot, don’t you? It’s like the security announcement, you have to put on your own oxygen mask before helping anyone else with theirs.”

With his encouragement, Alex finally blocks Rachel’s phone number and her social media accounts. He feels lighter for it and it must show as Demers says, “You look happier. You get some good news?” 

While Alex feels bad for imposing on Demers even more, he can’t tell anyone else on the team, so he finds himself trying to explain. “I block Rachel from being able to contact me and it’s kind of a relief.”

“That’s kind of good news. I’m surprised you didn’t do it sooner.”

“The things she say make sense at the time.” Alex struggles to explain. “But now I guess I can see how she twisted things to make me feel bad. I just feel so stupid for falling for it.”

Demers just nods and tells him, “Did you know, statistically it takes an average of seven tries to leave an abusive partner?”

“How do you know that?” Alex asks suspiciously.

Demers just shrugs. “I googled it.” 

Alex flushes with humiliation at the thought of his teammates seeing him as a victim like that. “It’s not the same thing though, not really.”

Demers raises an eyebrow, as though he can see through Alex’s bluster. “If you say so. Are you going to block your father too?”

Although Alex can see how it looks from the outside, and Papa’s calls make him feel just as bad, he can’t bring himself to block him. It isn't the same thing, Papa has a right to be disappointed in Alex after all the effort he’s put into his career. 

Then again, Alex is starting to realize that other people don't agree with Papa's assessments on how he is playing and he definitely prefers the positive feedback. When Papa calls next, after Alex feels like he had a good game, he just doesn’t take the call.

It's a relief and, barring bad losses when Alex feels like he deserves to hear the criticism, Alex mostly deletes his voicemails without listening. Without the combined weight of Rachel’s and Papa’s criticisms on his shoulders, Alex finds he is much less anxious and it shows in his game.


	5. Chapter 5

They’re not in a play-off spot at Thanksgiving, which is apparently statistically important enough to get them asked questions on how they feel about it, but they’re only a couple of points out and the mood in the locker room is light. 

Stepan is hosting a Thanksgiving dinner since they’re in the middle of a homestand, and there is a fierce discussion between the Canadians on the team and the Americans about which is the ‘real’ Thanksgiving, which had happened in Montreal too. They actually have fairly even numbers of Americans and Canadians here, which tends to mean the Swedes end up playing mediator a lot.

Of course, that means they get invited to parties for both celebrations, which is probably exactly what Ekman-Larsson intended. Patches had always made sure to hold two parties; it seemed like the sort of thing a captain should do.

Stepan tells them they have to bring a dish each and Alex is a little nervous. He can cook but he knows he’s not great at it; Rachel had always complained that he didn’t do it right. Demers hovers around him in the kitchen, teasing Alex for his furrowed brow as he focuses on getting the casserole right. “You try it,” he says. “Tell me if okay.”

It’s as though Demers can tell he needs to lighten the mood as he narrows his eyes, and jokes, “Are you sure? How d’you know I’m not going to sabotage your all-American show?”

“I know where you sleep,” Alex tells him.

Demers only laughs at him. “I know you’re not as scary as you look.” 

Alex isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult but Demers tries the casserole anyway and declares it "mostly edible".

Despite his nerves, Alex’s dish seems to be well-received at the dinner party, though he’s sure that’s just because hockey players mid-season will eat pretty much anything. It’s the first time he’s really socialized with the team outside of a bar and, though he gets teased about not being a real American when he admits to not liking pumpkin pie, he’s surprised to find he’s actually having fun.

It all goes well except for one point when someone puts an arm around the back of his chair, brushing the back of his neck, and his mind takes him back to Rachel doing the same thing. 

Alex has to excuse himself before he embarrasses himself in front of everyone. Once in the bathroom, he rubs his hands over his neck. He can still feel the ghost of her fingers digging in, feel his breathing get tight.

Rachel had loved to hold lavish dinner parties-most of the time the food was ordered in, but she liked it to look as though it was home-made, decanting it into her own serving dishes. As Alex had brought the last of it through, Rachel had pulled him down into the seat and leaned against him.

“The two of you are so sweet together,” one of her friends had gushed.

Alex had felt Rachel’s hand pulling on the back of his collar, reminding him how easily she could hurt him and her nails were sharp against his neck, as he’d said, “I’m so lucky. Best girlfriend.”

Rachel had smiled approvingly and Alex had forced himself to return it as her friends laughed.

Anna was hoping to come visit around Thanksgiving and bring Diego with her, having sorted out the paperwork needed to travel with the pet, but an emergency came up at work and she had to cancel. She promises to bring Diego with her for their Christmas break.

The team celebrates Demers’ 600th game at the beginning of December and Ekman-Larsson’s just a couple of days later and Alex is starting to feel he fits in. They all go out to celebrate and, for the first time in a while, Alex is able to relax and just enjoy the company of his teammates. He doesn’t even feel the need to have more than a couple of drinks, and his head is quiet.

“It’s good to see you smile,” Ekman-Larsson tells him. “Hopefully we’ll see more of it.”

For once Alex is able to just take his comment at face value. “I hope too.”

Nail says the same next time they catch up. “I think Arizona is good for you.”

“The change of scenery seems to have done you good too,” Alex tells him.

“Not hard to put up points on the same line as Datsyuk and Gusev,” Nail shrugs.

“Does that make them better than McDavid?” Alex teases. Even if they’re at opposite ends of the day — Alex getting ready for bed and Nail getting ready to head out to practice — it feels good to be able to just lay back and share a joke, without having to answer to anyone about who he was talking to.

Nail laughs. “You really have lightened up. Anyway, I told Davo — it makes such a difference to play on a winning team.”

“Well, all the refs are on your side, right?” Alex says. “That’s what I hear.” He knows it isn’t true, but a surprising amount of the North American media seemed to believe it.

“I’m on track to beat my penalty minutes too, so maybe not so much.” Nail has never let his struggles with hockey stop him being happy but Alex doesn’t remember him being this relaxed the last few years either.

The Coyotes don’t play Montreal for the first time until late December and the team are sympathetic to Alex’s nerves before the game. Of course, it brings out the usual vultures in the press trying to get a reaction from him and, though he follows his teammates’ advice and tries to not to read it, his father doesn’t hesitate to bring it up.

“You could have still been with them if you’d just made more of an effort,” he tells Alex.

The Habs are doing well with Price healthy again, better than the Coyotes but not by that much. They’re still fighting for their own wildcard slot but that doesn’t seem to matter for Papa. 

Fortunately P.K. also calls Alex beforehand but he just wants to wish him luck and offer his own advice. “Don’t get yourself confused with Gally,” he says.

Alex has to laugh. “Remember not to pass to the wrong team, that’s your advice?” 

“Hey, if it works?” P.K. also has some messages for Alex to pass onto the guys since he’s not going to be seeing them until January.

Even though Alex has become accustomed to his new teammates, the different jersey, it is still weird playing against the guys who were his team for so long. Fortunately, it’s the second night of a back-to-back for the Habs so they’re facing Niemi rather than Pricey, which makes it easier.

Late in the second, Alex wins a face-off against Domi in the Habs end and passes to Fischer. Juulsen blocks his shot and Lekhs tries to clear the rebound but Goose keeps it in. He gets it back to Alex, but Reilly is pressuring so Alex passes to Hammer. He shoots from high and Pearls taps in past Nemo. They are 3-1 up and Alex gets the secondary assist.

The Habs push hard in the third and get a goal back on a breakaway from Byron, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. They pull Nemo with just under two minutes left but can’t keep the puck in the Yotes' end and Strome gets the empty-netter with seconds to go.

Alex had tried really hard to avoid the press before the game but he doesn’t get to avoid questions from reporters, which stir up all his bad feelings about the trade, even though he’s pretty certain he won it since he isn’t in Montreal any more, plus he got a point in the game and Domi didn’t.

After the game, Gally has invited him out for dinner. Unlike in Montreal, it’s pretty easy to find somewhere to go out in Phoenix without being recognized, which is a real bonus. Alex feels a little guilty for not going out with his actual team for victory drinks but Demers tells him to go for it.

“Daddy’s right,” Goose says. “You don’t have to stop being friends with them just because you’re not on the same team anymore.”

“That or you two just like the Dallas boys a lot more than you like us,” Stepan jokes.

“They are a lot prettier than you guys,” Demers retorts and Alex makes his escape whilst they’re arguing over that point.

Gally texts to say he’s already there while Alex is still on his way. Alex turns up at the restaurant and is led to their private seating area, which turns out to be a bit of an ambush, with Pricey amongst others waiting there for him too. 

They seem happy enough to see him, even though Alex’s team just beat them. It’s good to be told he’s been missed, even if it means he doesn’t get a chance to have a proper chat with Brendan.

It’s strange too, to be surrounded by familiar faces, but missing others. Although Alex would bet Max is happier to be in Vegas right now. He’d looked that way when he saw him last month.

Alex passes on the messages from P.K., and from Beau, who he saw last week. It’s good to catch up, to hear about their home lives and families, even to listen to them complaining about Julien and know it’s not his problem any more.

Alex hasn’t realized Demers is still in touch with Jordie from their Dallas days, until he notices him changing the subject when anyone mentions Rachel. He manages to get a moment alone with him at the bar. “Did you hear something about Rachel?”

“Yeah, Jase said you had a shitty break-up,” Jordie says with a frown. “And it’s not like anyone ever had anything great to say about her anyway.”

Alex isn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed. “Does anyone else know?”

Jordie shrugs. “I haven’t said anything. But you haven’t mentioned her all evening and usually you’d have headed off by now. Or she’d have turned up.”

Rachel loved being the center of attention and had hated him being out without her supervision. Still, Alex doesn’t think he can talk about the break-up and stay composed and he isn’t about to admit to any weakness in front of Shawzy, he’d never hear the end of the chirping.

It’s much easier to keep drinking and not have to worry about talking about it. Unlike the Yotes guys, the Habs are all used to seeing him get drunk and no-one comments.

It feels like everything is starting to go well, so Alex should have expected something to happen and it does two games later, just before their Christmas break. They are facing the Sharks, one goal down halfway through the second and Alex goes down to a check. It knocks the breath out of him but he tries to force himself back to his feet and knows immediately from the sickening wrench that he’s damaged his knee again. He manages to get up and make it to the bench under his own power but there’s no way he can play on it again this game and he can only hope it isn’t as bad this time.

Tocchet sends him down the tunnel with the trainers and it hurts to put any weight on it. After some painful testing, the physios confirm it’s his ACL and give him an injection for the pain but he will need to come back tomorrow, once they are back in Arizona, so they can do an MRI. 

The next morning his knee is definitely swollen and painful but it doesn’t seem as bad as the last time and Alex is relieved when the doctor declares it a sprain rather than a tear. It isn’t season-ending at least, though it will still keep him out for a couple of weeks, if not more. Even so, Alex is certain he has fucked everything up. It was after his last injury that the Canadiens demoted him and he’s not likely to get another second chance.

His family are due in town for the holiday break, since the Coyotes would be playing on Orthodox Christmas. When they hear about his injury, Papa arranges for them to fly back later so they can stay with him longer.

Although Alex had planned to stay at Demers’ place, given how short their break is, it doesn’t make as much sense now he is hurt. Since he isn’t allowed to skate until after the New Year, Alex has no excuses to avoid staying at their rental apartment. He plans to use the excuse of his physio sessions to get out of the house for a couple of hours except Papa insists on driving him there. 

Anna arrives separately, finally bringing Diego with her. Alex tells himself it’s the pain, or maybe the painkillers, making him emotional as he hugs his cat close until Diego has had enough and wriggles out of his arms.

When Alex looks back up, his sister has her phone out and he narrows his eyes at her. “You better not be putting that on Instagram.”

She shakes her head. “No problem. I’ll just send it to a couple of people—” She backs up the hall, no doubt aware his knee means he has no chance of catching up with her.

The texts he gets from Nail that evening, a series of emojis and a selfie of him with his dog, are not unexpected.

It wouldn’t be so bad staying with his family if Alex could sleep through it but the painkillers he's been given aren't even strong enough to knock him out. Worse, he is stuck being a captive audience to everything his father has wanted to say to him so far this season and hasn’t had the opportunity, including how he should have avoided the check where he was injured.

Probably Alex should have had his head up but it wasn’t like he’d been blindsided, he’d just misjudged the angle and hadn’t had time to react. It isn’t worth arguing with Papa when he’s on a roll like this though.

Alex has missed his Mama’s cooking and, when he goes to her for a distraction, she is happy to keep him busy chopping vegetables, which at least helps occupy his hands, if not his mind. They never talk about hockey, which is a relief, instead Alex tells her about the food here in Arizona, places he’d like to take them out for dinner next time they visit, and recipes he’s thinking of trying for himself.

When there’s a pause in the conversation, and the food preparation, she gives him a look and tells him, “Whatever your father says, I’m glad you broke up with that girl, I never thought she was good for you. You’re looking happier now.”

Despite the way his knee is throbbing, Alex has to agree. “I like it here.”

She smiles at him. “And don’t forget, we’re proud of you, whatever you do.”

Alex isn’t entirely certain he believes that, but it’s good to hear.

Normally while injured, Alex would spend most of his time watching TV or playing video games but Papa doesn’t consider either of those a productive use of his time and wants to go over game tape with him instead.

Watching tape beside his father is always painful as he is quick to criticize any play which didn’t work out, even if Alex had been doing exactly what the coaching staff told him. He can’t tell Papa that though, as it ends with him insisting he knows better, which makes it harder for Alex to remember which advice he was supposed to be following on the ice.

Alex has always tried to tell himself that Papa only wants what is best for him but it is hard to listen to. He is reminded of back in Sarnia when his father thought he and Nail were spending too much time on the X-box and gave it away. Alex had bought it with his own allowance but that hadn’t mattered, his father kept a log of all their activities and he thought Alex scored less after playing on it the day before.

By the time they leave, Alex is restless but he still can’t run or skate so the only one of his normal outlets he has left is alcohol.

With the team back for a homestand, he starts to go out drinking with them after games. He gets drunk, now he’s no longer on strong painkillers, sees flashes of Rachel around every corner, hears echoes of his father’s voice, and he just needs to drown them out. Each night is a relief but the days become harder. He can’t train and it feels as though everything is spinning around inside his head: guilt, anxiety and memories.

He has to go into the practice center for the trainers to check on his progress and when they catch up with him chatting in the players' lounge, blocking his exit, he can't help thinking of Rachel backing him into a corner. He feels the panic rise and stumbles backwards, near tripping over a chair. 

The wave of memory is so strong, Alex has to catch himself from begging Rachel to stop. His cheeks heat with shame that they should have seen him overreact like this. He always felt so stupid afterwards for not stopping her when he was both taller and physically stronger but when it happened he would just freeze.

Besides he knew he couldn’t use his strength against her. Alex knew if he’d ever laid a hand on her, even if it had been in self-defence, Rachel would have done her best to ruin his career just the same. He had seen stories from around the league and, though he was sure the situations were different, just the implication would be enough. No one was likely to believe he was a victim.

And hell, it had been bad enough when she had been arrested in Montreal; for everyone who had sympathized with him there were at least two more who had mocked him for it. 

The night the team beat the Rangers, Alex stumbles into the club’s bathroom to piss and into two guys who are in the middle of exchanging money and bags of white powder. It seems like fate, the drug coming to him when he needs it most. The dealer is happy to find another customer and Alex doesn’t hesitate to lay out a couple of lines.

It is only a chance that Kuemper walks into the bathroom at that moment, stopping Alex before he can take them.

“Are you fucking stupid? What are you doing?” The goalie grabs Alex by the shoulder and pulls him away from the counter.

“You don't understand. It's not… I can't…” Alex doesn't have the words in English to explain.

“We're getting out of here.” Kuemps pushes him towards the door and, though Alex regrets leaving behind the coke, a guarantee of a few hours’ peace of mind, he's kind of glad at being caught out. He stumbles, the room spinning around him. “How fucking drunk are you?” the goalie asks.

Alex doesn't notice him texting as they make their way out of the club, but somehow isn't surprised when they're met outside by Stepan, Goligoski and an Uber. They head back to Demers’ place where he is given a glass of water and told to drink up. The water helps to sober him up a little then the rush of panic as he looks at who’s around him and realizes what he’s done does the rest.

Alex can’t believe he’s fucked up this badly. He can’t remember what the rules are for the substance abuse program but he’s pretty sure he’s just broken them and that means a suspension at the least. Will they even let him play out the rest of the year or will Coyotes just terminate his contract? His chest is tight, hurts, and there’s no air in the room, his vision starts to blur, goes black around the edges and he sways, then there’s a broad hand between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay, kid, just breathe.”

It takes a few minutes for his breathing to return to normal and Alex is embarrassed to realize he’s listing into Demers’ side and it’s Stepan with the hand on his back. He forces himself to pull away from them, though the contact was comforting.

“What’s going on, Gally?” Stepan asks, sounding sympathetic, though Alex doubts he will continue to be when he realizes how much Alex has fucked up.

He looks down at his knees, not knowing where to start. He’s still drunk enough that the pain from his bad knee barely makes it through the haze.

“Look, Alex,” Demers tries. “I know about your ex, and what a dick your dad is. I’m not going to judge.”

It's humiliating, but he's probably right. Alex doesn’t look up, not wanting to see their expressions, and starts talking. He tells them about Rachel, about how she made him feel broken and worthless. He talks about how his father’s constant criticisms have worn him down, convinced him that he sucks at hockey. He confesses how afraid he is that this latest injury will be the one that makes his team realize how shitty a player he actually is. 

He explains how drinking is the only thing that shuts his brain off, how he first tried coke in Sarnia and discovered the high let him forget everything else for a few hours.

Alex ends up telling them a lot more than he has previously shared with anyone, and to his surprise, when he finally runs out of words and dares to look up, there is nothing but sympathy in their faces.

He waits for the judgement he expected, for them to call him weak, but it doesn’t come. He feels drained but somehow lighter.

Goose is the one to break the silence. “That’s— Have you been holding all that in all year?” He doesn’t sound angry but Alex still flinches.

“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Demers says, looking almost guilty and no, Alex had done his best to keep the worst of it from him. 

“It’s okay,” Alex says but that only makes him frown deeper.

“It’s not okay,” he says. “I should have paid more attention. The team trusted me to look out for you and I’ve let you down.”

“I’m not a child,” Alex snaps. “I didn’t want anyone to know, but I couldn’t even do that right.” He clenches his fists, trying not to give into tears.

Demers is still sat besides him and he wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulder. It helps. “I’m really proud of you for sharing,” Demers tells him. “I know it was hard, but you need help, Alex.”

“I think you should tell the team,” Kuemper says, from where he’s standing in the doorway.

Alex shudders at the thought. “I can’t believe I even told you all.”

“Daddy told you we wouldn’t judge,” Stepan says. “And you don’t need to tell everyone all of it but you should let them know you’ve been struggling. We’re a team, we support each other.”

That’s not Alex’s experience from the teams he’s been on before, and he knows the Coyotes have plenty of up-and-coming forwards who would love to take his roster spot. He shakes his head.

“You need people you trust to know. I don’t get the impression you’ve got much of a support network,” Goose adds.

Alex goes to tell them he has plenty of good friends outside the team, but realizes that’s not true anymore. He can’t remember the last time he spoke with Prusty, or P.K., or Devo, who he still owes a massive apology to. 

Even Gally he hasn’t talked to properly since before the summer. Nail is the only person he’s really been in contact with this year, and that’s mostly on Nail himself. “I'll think about it,” he says instead.

“We can’t keep this a secret though,” Stepan says gently. “At least not indefinitely. You need to get professional help.”

Alex knows he’s going to have to go back to the program and that will get back to the team anyway, so he agrees to let them tell OEL that something happened but that they'll leave it to Alex to give him the whole story.

The day after, Alex wakes with a hangover but also relief he didn’t do anything he would really regret. He is still ashamed to face Demers but, as tempting as it is to hide in his room, he needs to eat, and he suspects Demers would come in and drag him out eventually. 

When he makes it to the living room, where he can hear the TV playing, Demers looks up with a smile. There is no sign of the judgement Alex had feared, even after his sympathy last night. “You’re up!”

Alex forces a smile. “And I’ve got coffee.” He hesitates, before asking, “Shouldn’t you be at morning skate?”

Demers shrugs. “It’s optional today and I think Eks is going to understand if I don’t make it.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Alex can’t help but object.

“But could you do with a friend?” Demers asks and Alex feels his resistance crumble.

They have a late breakfast, or maybe it’s an early lunch, then Demers encourages Alex to get rid of all the alcohol in the house. He’s probably right though, when Alex starts to collect together the beers and half-drunk bottles of spirits, it’s clear he’s shocked at exactly how much Alex had been drinking.

Demers also reminds him, “There are some more people you need to speak to.”

Alex doesn’t feel ready for that but he knows he needs to do it sooner or later. He isn’t prepared to tell everyone, but there are some who need to know — Ekman-Larsson and Hammer at least, and a couple of the other veterans. 

In the end, it’s the four who already know, the remaining two plus Pánik and Raanta, which already feels like more than enough to Alex. They meet at the captain’s house, since that is vaguely neutral territory, as far as the team is concerned.

Alex can tell they are trying to be supportive but, reasonably in his opinion, are mostly concerned about what it means for the team.

“Are you going to need to go to rehab?” is Eks’ immediate concern.

“Probably not.” Alex certainly hopes not. “I’m out for another couple of weeks with my knee anyway.”

“Well, if there’s anything we can do to help, just let us know.”

Alex thanks him, though he doubts he will take advantage of the offer. Despite their apparent easy acceptance of his revelations, Alex still feels exposed having all his secrets out in the open. He wants a drink, but he can’t give in this quickly. He reminds himself what’s at stake — he can’t afford to lose hockey after everything else. 

Pánik searches him out before he leaves and offers to put him in touch with someone who will understand what he is going through. “You know Rich Clune?”

Alex shakes his head. The name sounds vaguely familiar but he isn’t sure where from.

“We played together on the Marlies,” Pánik says. “Look him up, he might be able to offer you some advice.”


	6. Chapter 6

Alex googles Clune and finds the other man’s Players’ Tribune article. He wants to deny that his situation is at all similar, Alex wasn’t being asked to fight or play a role he wasn’t suited to, but the fear was something he shared.

He knows he can't carry on like this so, as soon as Pánik sends him Clune’s number, Alex gets in contact. Though the other man must be busy with his own season he arranges a time for them to chat the following evening. 

In the meantime, Alex digs out the contact details he has for the substance abuse program. He hates the feeling that he’s failed but he hopes it will be enough that he’s making contact himself. 

They offer him details of a rehab facility nearby but Alex doesn’t feel that it’s that bad. He tells them he’s already seeing a counselor through the team, and hopes that’s enough for them.

It takes a little convincing, and they need him to check in with their own staff first, but they agree that, if he already has someone he’s comfortable working with, they’re happy for him to keep seeing them.

The call takes a lot out of him and Alex is nervous enough about speaking to Clune that Demers calls a bunch of their teammates over to play video games for the afternoon. Somehow Alex was expecting it to feel awkward, as though they might be gossiping about him already, but no-one says anything to him about it, not even when he sticks to soft drinks the whole time.

When Alex, now calmer, gets through to Clune, he doesn’t know where to start. “Pánik thought you might be able to give me some advice?”

“He told me you’ve been drinking too much,” Clune says, his tone sympathetic but his words are blunt.

“I... Yes, for sure,” Alex replies. “But it’s not—”

“It’s complicated?” 

Alex has to laugh, partially in relief at having someone who _understands_. “Something like that. I’ve been struggling and it just... made everything easier.”

“Until it didn’t? I get that,” Clune says. “Have you contacted the substance abuse guys yet?”

“Yeah, I spoke with them earlier,” Alex tells him.

“Good to hear. So, are you checking into rehab? You’re out anyway with an injury, right?”

“I am, but no, I don’t want that,” Alex says. It probably wouldn’t be as bad as he’s imagining but he can already picture the look on his father’s face when he hears.

“Well, that’s your call,” Clune says, though he sounds as though he disagrees. “You could always try A.A. instead.”

Alex’s instinctive reaction is denial. “I’m not alcoholic,” he says. “Sure, I’ve been overdoing it but it’s not that bad.”

“How much did you drink yesterday?” Clune asks, almost casually.

“Nothing.” Alex is pretty proud of that. He doesn’t remember the last time he hadn’t had at least a couple of beers in the evening.

“Okay, in the last week?”

Alex has to pause to think that one through.

“If you’re having to count them up, that’s its own answer.” Clune pauses. “Let’s try another one, have you had a drink in the morning within the last month?”

“Ye-es.” Not every morning, just after drinking, to take the edge off his hangover, or after a bad game and a conversation with his father, or if he knew he was going to have a difficult day, and okay, that’s more than Alex had realized.

“More than once?” Clune continues.

“Yes,” Alex admits.

“How about, how many times have you drunk alone this month?”

It’s definitely more than once. “A few, for sure.”

“Congratulations, you’re an alcoholic.”

“It’s not the alcohol though, not really,” Alex protests. “I know I can give it up; I’ve stopped before, coke as well, but sometimes I need the way it makes me feel.”

“I know the feeling, but you really don’t,” Clune sounds understanding but it’s clear he has more to say. “You know, you can tell me about it if you like, I’m not gonna judge.”

“It’s a long story,” Alex warns him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex explains about his father, his break-up with Rachel, how he’d been so relieved to be out of Montreal but afraid he was going to fuck up here in Arizona too. It’s easier the third time around and he can almost start to believe he might be able to do this.

“And is this really what _you_ want? To quit drinking?” Clune asks. “If you’re just doing it trying to appease other people it’s not going to stick.”

“It’s not that.” This time Alex means it; ending his relationship had been like coming out from under a stormcloud and the drink and drugs now feel like the last of that cloud hanging over him. He wants it gone and a fresh start. 

Clune sounds approving, and Alex is still weak enough that he wants that approval. “But how?” he asks.

“It’s like any habit, you have to change your routine but, if you’re still having the same issues you were using drink and drugs to insulate yourself from, it’s not going to happen,” Clune points out. “You need to develop new coping mechanisms and you can’t do that alone.”

They end the conversation agreeing that Alex will keep him updated on how he gets on and Clune wishes him luck.

Taking his point, Alex manages to make an appointment the next day with Dr Hamling at his office. He struggles to sit still in the waiting room but it isn’t too long before he is called in.

“So, Alex, what did you want to talk about today?”

Alex takes a deep breath, his stomach is churning and his mouth is dry but he needs to do this. “I have a drinking problem,” he admits, being finally honest with himself as much as them.

Dr Hamling hardly blinks and Alex has a moment of doubt. What did he know already? Has he made another mistake, like in Montreal, of thinking he could trust someone official with his secret?

But then the therapist continues, “Thank you for sharing that, Alex, that must have been hard.”

Perhaps he is just being professional. He has a lot of questions for Alex, some of the same ones Clune had already asked him, as well as how long he’s been having this problem.

Alex tells him how he’d gone through the league’s rehab program in Montreal, before the front office there had apparently decided he was too much of a liability.

Dr Hamling doesn’t seem surprised by this revelation, but then perhaps he’d read Alex’s press. He confirms he’s willing to help support Alex through this but explains he is not qualified to handle the physical side of withdrawal.

Wanting everything out in the open, Alex tells him about the drugs too, the euphoria he got with coke, which let him stop caring about his problems for a while. He admits that, though he’d mostly managed to stay away since the trade, it wasn’t for lack of trying and he was aware he was drinking more and more often to compensate. 

Hamling assures Alex that anything he tells him is completely confidential, but advises him to speak to the team. “You’re already on IR and they already know you’ve been having issues with stress. If you need more time to recover from this too, I’m sure they’d rather wait and have you back at full health.”

Alex goes to his appointment with the abuse program doctors prepared to argue about whether he needs rehab or not. Instead they ask how long since he last had a drink and if he’s been having any withdrawal symptoms.

It’s been four days now and, though it’s been hard, like having a constant hangover, it hasn’t been as bad as he’d read online. Then again, he’s used to living with anxiety so, even if the shaky hands and insomnia are related to withdrawal rather than just the stress of the situation, it doesn’t feel any different.

They eventually agree he probably doesn’t need an inpatient program but insist on regular appointments with his counselor, and weekly check-ins with their staff too. 

Now he has an incentive, Alex starts taking his counseling sessions more seriously. Before he’d tended to skip the ‘homework’ but now he works through the exercises he’s given. He also accepts Hamling directing the conversation to topics he’s previously tried to avoid, like his father and their relationship.

It is surprisingly validating to have an outsider tell him it wasn't fair to have been treated like he was, that he hadn’t deserved it. Unlike with Rachel, Alex is never going to cut contact with his father, but that doesn’t mean he has to accept being treated that way. They practice phrases he can use to redirect the conversation or to admit to the way the criticism makes him feel, in English and then again in Russian. 

Now Alex isn’t having to make excuses to Rachel every time he wants to speak to his friends, nor answer to her for any time he spends on social media, he wants to get back into regular contact with people and not just hope they’d call him, as Nail or P.K. did.

Alex starts with Prusty, who has always been great at bolstering his self-esteem. Even at his lowest points in Montreal when he'd been convinced he was terrible, Prusty had kept telling him he was the best and Alex never had to pretend all was well for him. That doesn’t mean he isn’t nervous about calling but he has missed him.

He opens with a text, just asking when he’d be free to chat and his phone rings minutes later.

“Chucky!” Prusty sounds delighted to hear from him. “How’re you doing? It’s been ages—”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, suddenly choked up. “I didn’t mean to leave it so long.”

“Hey no, you’ve had a lot going on. New team, new city. I know how that goes. How’s Arizona treating you?”

“It’s good,” Alex says, forcing himself to relax his shoulders, where he’d started to hunch around the phone. “But that’s not what I called about.”

“Is something wrong? Can I help?”

“It’s better now,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I broke up with Rachel—”

“I thought you said she was the one,” Prusty sounds cautious and Alex doesn’t blame him. He’d always refused to listen to anyone else’s opinions of her before.

“I thought she was,” Alex says. “But she... She hurt me.” He can hardly force the words out.

“Hurt, like what? Not like physically, Alex?”

“Yes.” Despite everything, Alex is ashamed to admit to having been so weak.

He should have had more faith in Prusty. “I knew something was up, I fucking knew! Shit, Chucky, you should have said something. No, I should have realized how bad it was when you stopped calling.” Prusty sounds gutted.

“You tried. I wasn’t ready to hear it,” Alex knows he needed to come to the realisation in his own time.

Prusty tries to apologize again but Alex refuses to accept it. He just wants to move on. Prusty insists that they will talk about it properly at some point but, in the meantime, Alex encourages Prusty to catch him up on his and Maripier’s lives and Prusty makes him promise to call more regularly in the future.

Alex calls Devo next. It isn’t as though they haven’t spoken at all since Devo’s trade — Alex had called to congratulate him on the Cup — but they hadn’t ever talked about The Incident again and Alex still feels guilty.

“You’re the last person who needs to apologize,” Devo says, refusing to accept it. “It was the fault of Habs' management I got traded and frankly it worked out for the best — I wasn’t going to win a Stanley Cup _there_.” He pauses. “So what brought this on?”

“I broke up with Rachel over the summer,” Alex begins. 

Devo lets out a huge sigh of relief. “Dude, sorry if you’re still upset but I’m really glad to hear that. She was so bad for you.”

“I realized that,” Alex says. “Eventually.”

“Well, later’s better than never,” Devo says, philosophically. “How’re the Yotes treating you? Are they supportive?”

“So much.” Alex still can’t quite believe how patient they have been with him.

“It’s amazing what difference it makes being on a team that actually cares about you, right?”

Alex would drink to that except, well, he’s not doing that anymore. He’s starting to realize how much he had relied on it though.

At the same time he is working through his issues in counseling, Alex finishes rehabbing his injury and makes it back into the line-up just in time for their game in Montreal at the end of January. Despite P.K.’s warning of his own experience, Alex isn’t really prepared for the video tribute nor the reaction of the crowd. He at least manages to avoid tears in public but it’s harder than he had expected.

The game itself is both easier than their previous meeting since he has more distance now, and harder because he has to keep reminding himself the players in away colors at the Centre Bell are actually his team. Maybe P.K. had had a point there too.

The Coyotes manage to take it to overtime but Pricey hangs on, saving everything they throw at him, until Drouin finally hammers one past Raants for the win.

Of course, the Montreal press are an unwelcome reminder of why Alex is happier elsewhere, asking intrusive questions about how he had felt about the trade, about his now-former teammates. It takes longer than he would like to get away.

Gally has invited him over after the game and, since it’s the All Star weekend coming up, Alex has arranged to stay an extra couple of nights in Montreal and fly back on his own. He's tried not to let his father make him feel bad about not being selected; Keller deserves it far more and Alex doesn't need to be the best player on his team. 

Dr Hamling has pointed out that making it into the NHL is an impressive enough feat and something his father never achieved. Maybe Papa is trying to live out his own dreams through Alex, but he needs to be his own person.

It’s not too late when they get back to Gally’s apartment and he offers Alex a beer while they watch TV. Alex was expecting that explaining he’s not drinking would be an issue but instead Gally looks relieved. “What?” Alex asks.

“Dude, I was so worried about you last year,” he says. “And then I had to hear about your break-up from P.K.”

“I didn’t know that,” Alex says. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know how to. And any time I tried to talk to you about _her_ you changed the subject.”

Alex had to admit that was true but it made him feel uncomfortable that it had been so obvious to other people that something was wrong.

Gally offers not to drink either but Alex doesn’t think it’ll be a problem. Gally boots up his console and sitting next to him on his sofa playing computer games is familiar and easy.

“Anyway,” Gally says, once they’re in the middle of a game. “You look happier now, more relaxed. I like it. Arizona is clearly suiting you.”

“It’s being out of Montreal,” Alex jokes. “You should try it.”

Gally only shoves his arm in response, trying to put him off his game. It’s true though. Alex isn’t on the first line but, unlike in Montreal, no-one seems stressed out about this, though he can’t stop thinking about what his father would say and he has years of examples to draw from, starting in Sarnia, with his draft “why didn’t you go higher like Nail” and on through the years in Montreal.

He had spoken to Anna about packing up his Montreal flat while he was in town, concerned that he hadn’t heard anything from Rachel about collecting her things. Anna admits that she had packed it all up herself and had the boxes delivered to Rachel via her modelling agency, figuring Alex would rather maybe lose a few CDs or DVDs than interact with Rachel more than necessary. It is a relief to know he isn’t going to be surprised by any reminders of her.

Alex is surprised by the pile of post on the side, until he recognizes Rachel’s handwriting and he goes cold. Already he can hear her comments echoing in his head again and it takes him a moment to put the training from therapy into use. 

He makes himself walk into the kitchen and pour a glass of water. He takes deep breaths, grounding himself. She isn’t here, he doesn’t have to listen anymore. Alex throws the letters into the trash unread.

Although he had thought he would feel sad packing away photos of him and Rachel, the last souvenirs of their relationship, he actually feels relieved. It balances out the guilt he feels as he starts to collect up the alcohol stash in the flat and finds even more than he remembered. Maybe if he’d had to look at it all together, he would have realized how badly he was doing sooner.

Flying back to Phoenix actually feels like going home and Demers is happy to see him, though maybe that’s partly so Diego will sleep on Alex’s pillow and wake _him_ up in the early hours screeching for food.

In fact, everyone in Arizona just seems delighted that Alex is doing well as the second line center; he gets power play minutes, not so much on the penalty kill but, after his father and Therrien, and later Julien screaming at him about everything he was doing wrong for so long, it doesn’t seem so hard now to be ‘defensively responsible’ and the Coyotes don’t need him to play that role. He’s never going to win the Selke and his plus/minus isn’t anything to write home about but he’s doing better and most days he’s okay with that. 

Despite Demers’ support, Alex is even starting to think about moving out. He feels more stable, isn’t so liable to get lost in his own head anymore and besides, he’s sure Demers must be pretty sick of having him underfoot.

Their bye week comes around and Alex does his best to stay out of the way of Demers and his partner, who has come to stay. He is surprised when Demers tries to persuade him to join them for a movie. Rachel had always wanted his full attention and he had assumed that was normal, at least.

He stumbles trying to bring up the subject with Prusty, whose steady relationship with Maripier he’d always used a role model. “You always said things like you didn’t deserve her, that you had to head home or she’d be upset, that you’d be sleeping on the couch for upsetting her.”

It isn’t quite a question but Prusty seems to understand what he’s getting at anyway. “Yeah, but I didn’t mean it. They’re just things you say.”

“But I didn’t know that,” Alex tells him. “I thought that’s just how relationships were.”

“I’m seeing that now.” 

Brandon suggests, even if Alex isn’t ready for another relationship yet, that he practices talking to women. “You’re going to want to date again at some point and you don’t want _her_ as your only model for how to act.”

The next time he is picking up drinks in Starbucks, Alex tries flirting with the barista. He feels awkward and, though she smiles back, he knows better than to read anything into it, bearing in mind Anna’s lectures on the topic from long before. He makes sure to leave a large tip as well.

It’s helps that there’s nothing at stake when he knows they don’t mean it either and it gets easier. He watches his teammates and follows their lead; their regular waitress at the club they always go to after a win, the arena security guard who always wishes them good luck, but not their social media officer because she gets grumpy at being distracted.

Alex takes the chirping he gets for it, because he’d rather hear that he’s bad at flirting, than the teasing he got in Montreal for being under Rachel’s thumb, which was too accurate to ever be amusing. He is still taking each day one step at a time but there are more good days now than bad.

He still has bad days when he can’t get the echo of his father’s voice out of his head but he has new coping mechanisms now, doesn’t need drink or drugs to dull it. 

Alex goes out with the team after victories, even after losses, and no-one cares if he isn’t picking up, or if he’s careful with what he drinks. Or rather, they do care, but not in a judgemental way. Even those who don’t know the whole story, who had probably started to get used to always seeing him with a drink in hand, have never said anything.

Alex wonders if someone has told them the truth but, instead of the shame he would probably have felt before, now he just feels relieved that he doesn’t have to have that conversation himself.

The team feel closer than the Habs, spend more time socializing together. It probably helps that even in February it is warm enough, here in Arizona, for grilling outside.

He often ends up playing with kids or pets at these events, since they are much simpler to handle but sometimes Alex sits back and watches how his teammates, Goligoski, Stepan, Raanta, amongst others, interact with their partners, relearning what’s healthy. It’s weird to think how much he used to misinterpret, seeing other people’s interactions through the filter of his own relationship, or even his parents. 

Not that Papa was ever violent, but he’d always liked to have his own way and Alex has come to admire the deft way his mother handles him without arguing, but also without always giving in.

Just because Alex’s drinking habits are off the table, doesn’t mean the team don’t find other things to tease him about, but it’s never cruel and they are always quick to celebrate his triumphs with him too.

“Good game tonight, boys,” Goose says as they get back to the locker room after a solid win against the Kings, clapping Alex on the back.

Alex had a goal and an assist but is pretty sure the praise should be going to Raants for his shut-out. He’d just had a lucky bounce.

“You’ve got to do something about your face though, kiddo,” Demers tells him and Alex frowns back at him. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Back in Montreal Gally had always used to tease Alex about his ‘resting bitch face’ telling him he looked like he was auditioning for the Russian mob. Rads had found it hilarious, but then he liked playing up to the stereotype as he’d proved this year with the Stars’ police dogs photoshoot, which he'd made sure to send everyone Snaps from.

Alex comes to realize he has made real friends here and it makes him aware how much of a distance there was between him and most of his teammates in Montreal by the end. The ones who have stayed friends are those like P.K. and Gally whose own gregarious natures had forced their way past his guard and who never let him wallow.

After the media have left, Lyubushkin teases him in Russian about his American accent.

“Rich coming from you,” Alex tells him, in English, since it isn’t like his is any better.

“I not claim to be American,” he retorts.

It probably ought to bother Alex, as it was the kind of thing Rachel used to say to him a lot, but instead he laughs. “Go Team America!” and Keller comes across the room to high-five him. 

It is strange to realize that, though Rachel has crossed his mind, the memories don't really hurt anymore. Alex isn't thrown into a flashback, doesn't feel sick or dizzy to think about it, he's getting over her. And, though he knows there are some memories which will still have the power to hurt him, it's getting better.

Alex has also spoken to their PR team about doing some work to support victims of domestic violence, though he isn’t certain how publically he wants to do it. He remembers how Habs PR had showed him some of the comments they’d got after The Incident, calling him weak and more. Then again, it had been proved several times over that the Habs hadn’t had his best interests at heart.

On a different note, he catches himself calling Demers “Daddy” one day without it feeling weird and it’s especially good because Demers is so startled, having got used to him not saying it. Alex starts to laugh at the look on his face and Demers joins in a moment later, slinging an arm around his shoulder. 

“Have you been planning that?” Alex’s face must show his own surprise because Demers just smiles and ruffles his hair. “You’re good, kid.” Something settles inside him.

Now Alex is settled and reasonably confident he’s going to be here at least until the end of his contract, he decides he's ready to go house-hunting.

“You know you don’t have to move out,” Demers tells him, sounding concerned. “You’re not in the way, you’re more than welcome to stay until at least the end of the season.”

Alex is touched that Demers would try to reassure him and promises he hasn’t been made to feel unwelcome at all. “I just need my own space.”

“Do you really want to add the stress of house-hunting on top of the end of the season push?”

It’s a fair point. They’ve been fighting to either reach or hold a playoff spot for a couple of weeks now. They’re unlikely to make top three in the Atlantic unless someone else crashes and burns at the last minute but it’s looking like they’ll be battling the Blues, Flames and the Stars for the Wildcard spots.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re being pushed out.”

Alex finds himself believing him, though he wouldn’t have before, but doesn’t stop looking entirely. He knows what he wants, nothing too modern or too big but still with plenty of space for people to come visit. He likes Demers’ neighborhood but is willing to look elsewhere too.

It doesn’t take long to find the perfect place, in the same neighborhood, way cheaper than property in Montreal and with its own pool. His offer is accepted and the sale progresses quickly.


	7. Chapter 7

“Come on, you've got to tell me all about it,” Nail says when their Skype call connects. He's in the middle of the KHL playoffs, waiting for the start of his Conference Final series against CSKA. “I need the distraction.”

Even though he has already seen the photos, Alex describes it to him again, talking about his plans to redecorate and what furniture he wants to get.

Nail gets invested in how Alex should decorate ‘his’ spare room.

“You don't even know when you're going to be able to visit,” Alex complains, but it's half-hearted, since he's looking forward to it.

“Sure I do. As soon as we're done here, I'm coming over to cheer you on in the playoffs.”

Though Alex appreciates the confidence Nail has in them, he points out, “We haven’t definitely made it yet. And even if we do, we're not going to be getting past Nashville or Sharks.”

Nail refuses to be dissuaded. “Then I'll be there when you get knocked out. And we can hang out for a few days before going on holiday.”

Back earlier in the year, when Alex was struggling, Nail had made him promise they would go away somewhere once their seasons were over. “I haven't forgotten,” Alex says. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere hot,” Nail says.

“Are you sure? If you want hot, we could stay here.” It's already promising to be a scorching summer and it's only March.

“But no beaches,” Nail points out.

“I have a pool—” 

Apparently that's not good enough. It will be Alex’s first summer without the obligation of trying to balance his time between Rachel and his family and he finds he likes the idea of doing something just for himself. He spends a lot of his free time searching holiday websites and sending links to Nail. 

When Prusty hears about Nail’s plan he insists, “You better get tickets for me and Maripier too.”

“Really?”

“You think we're going to miss out on the chance to support you in the playoffs now I don't have to worry about that shit myself?” It's clearly a rhetorical question. “Besides, we want to see your new place.”

“I'm making you help me unpack boxes,” Alex warns him. He moved in a couple of weeks ago but Anna has had everything shipped from Montreal and he hasn’t opened any of it yet. Still, Diego helps prevent him feeling lonely.

“I can probably manage that,” Prusty agrees.

In fact, Nail makes it over for their last home game without warning him in advance. The first Alex learns of it is when he is sitting on the bench waiting for puck drop as the jumbotron pans around the crowd and stops on Prusty, who after all had played a whole eleven games for the Coyotes, and Nail is at his side, both of them wearing Alex’s jersey. 

Alex smiles and something in him settles, knowing he has their support. He wants to look up, try to spot them for himself, but it is enough that they’re here. Alex turns his focus on the ice, allowing himself to block everything else out.

It’s a hard fought game: the Jets go 1-0 up midway through the first and, though they play hard, it takes all the Yotes have to keep the Jets from pulling further ahead.

They start the third still down. The Jets change on the fly and Alex’s line are sent over the boards. He dekes around Byfuglien, passing to Pearls who takes it into the Jets’ end. Alex can't get a clear lane so Pearls passes back to Goose at the blueline. He shoots through traffic but Hellebuyck knocks it away, straight onto Alex's stick and he slams home the rebound. They are even!

The Jets fight back but somehow they manage to stay level into overtime. One point might get them through but they need the win to be sure.

The seconds are ticking down, Alex's heart pounding, when Strome manages to get a breakaway as the Jets are changing and he tips the puck over Hellebuyck’s blocker and into the back of the net.

Alex finds himself standing, cheering with the rest of his teammates, banging his stick against the boards. They're in! The home crowd is screaming for them, clearly thrilled. 

It might only be the second Wildcard spot, but they've scraped through. They'll be playing the Preds, which doesn’t bode well for them making it any further but, after the Yotes’ last season, making the playoffs at all is an achievement.

There’s more press than normal and, as one of the goal scorers tonight, Alex doesn’t get to escape it. But no-one is asking pointed questions about his performance now or his ability to play center, instead asking about his goal, how he feels about making the playoffs, what they’re going to do to prepare for the Preds. 

Alex is even relaxed enough to joke about how he will have to make a bet with P.K.. He’s not going to put money on the Yotes winning, though he doesn’t say that to the cameras, but maybe on which of them scores first or most over the series.

One of the reporters asks if he’s heard any of the results from around the league and, when he says no, tells him Montreal lost to Toronto, missing the playoffs by three points. 

They are clearly hoping he’ll say something worth reporting on so Alex tries to keep his comment as bland as possible. It’s hard to feel sorry for the franchise when they had treated him so badly but he still feels for his friends being out of the playoffs for the second year in a row; Gally, Pricey and the others don’t need him kicking them while they’re down.

Though he’d never tell the press, Alex is meanly glad that he’d managed to end with more points than Domi, even though he’d played fewer games. Despite his injury, Alex has had a pretty good year. He nearly managed fifty points on the season anyway and did manage to break twenty goals, coming fourth highest on the Yotes in points.

Once he finally escapes the press and finishes changing, Alex turns his phone back on. He has a series of texts from his father, the first congratulating him on his goal and making the playoffs but it’s followed up by a comment about his face-off percentage, a complaint about his turnover in the second that almost led to a Jets’ goal and a warning that he ‘won’t get away with making plays like that in the playoffs’.

It hurts that Papa can’t ever just be happy for him but Alex takes a deep breath and then deletes the thread so he’s not tempted to re-read it when he’s stressed.

Anna, who is with their parents in Miami, texts him separately. “ _Congratulations!_ ” It is followed shortly by, “ _Whatever Papa said, I’m sorry —I tried ((”_

It is a discussion they’ve had before; Anna insisting Alex should be grateful Papa is trying to do better, as though framing his criticisms as ‘observations’ and prefacing them with faint praise makes them any less hurtful.

Then, when Papa reverts to type, Anna apologizes for him, and Alex is just supposed to accept that’s the way he is. It’s not enough for Alex but he doesn’t want to fall out with Anna over it, so they have agreed to disagree.

Alex focuses instead on the positive messages from Nail and Prusty, even though they’re literally waiting outside for him; from Patches, who has also made the playoffs with the Knights; and from a number of other ex-Habs. He thinks there are enough of them to make a group chat worthwhile, and for the first time it doesn’t hurt that he wasn’t enough for Montreal to keep him.

Alex finds Nail waiting for him, along with the Prusts, just outside the players’ area. They look excited for him and Alex reminds himself he doesn’t need his father’s approval to validate him.

Nail rushes to be first to give him a hug, followed more sedately by Maripier, whilst Prusty just ruffles his hair like he always used to.

“You did it!” Nail says with a broad smile that Alex can’t help but return.

“I knew you could!” Prusty adds.

“Still a long way from the cup,” Alex says pragmatically.

“Lighten up,” Nail tells him. “Enjoy it.”

Alex invites them all to join the team in celebrating but the Prusts are heading back to their hotel. They promise to come over for brunch the following day. Alex reminds Brandon he hasn’t forgotten his promise to help unpack boxes.

“I’m coming out with you,” Nail insists.

Alex raises an eyebrow. “What time is it for you right now?”

Nail shrugs. “Morning? I slept this afternoon. I’ll deal with the jet lag when it hits me.”

Though he trusts his team, Alex likes knowing Nail will be there to have his back. 

The bar isn’t far and, when they arrive, Alex is greeted warmly, squeezed in besides Demers and immediately dragged into an argument about whether Team USA is going to beat Sweden at the Worlds this year while Nail goes to get them drinks.

Alex’s phone buzzes with a text from P.K. “ _Congrats! Looking forward to seeing u. Don’t think I’m gonna take it easy on u tho!_ ”

He has to smile as he replies, “ _Thanks. Not going to make it easy for you. Winner buys loser Timmies_.” P.K. was too much of a Canadian not to go for it.

“ _Ur on!_ ” is the response.

When Alex looks up, Nail’s talking to Ekman-Larsson at the bar. If it had been back in Montreal with Patches, Alex would have been worried, but here he found he wasn’t concerned. Nail comes back with two glasses of some horrendously brightly colored liquid, with fruit and an umbrella in it. “Apparently it’s a ‘mocktail’!“ he says, sounding delighted.

Alex makes introductions, with Nail pointing out he already knows Oesterle from their time on the Oilers. Nail is quickly accepted into their group, especially when he proves willing to share embarrassing stories of Alex from Juniors. Of course, because he’s the best, Nail knows how to pick the ones which don’t involve his father.

Surrounded by his friends, Alex feels he can truly breathe. There is nowhere else he would rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I started this story immediately post-trade so any resemblances to the actual events of the 2018 off-season or start of the 2018-19 season are limited, based on whether they were entirely predictable (OEL as Captain, for example) or fitted into my planned storyline. Clearly I misjudged just how early Gally would be injured though!
> 
> Further disclaimer: I was not a fan of the Coyotes before I started writing this story so apologies if I mischaracterising any of the team - Demers has a starring role largely because I was familiar with him from his time in Dallas and he has the best/worst nickname…
> 
> I would also like to thank my betas: Katy and Emma.


End file.
